JIM    DAVIS 


BY 


JOHN     MASEFIELD 

!/ 
Author    of  '  Captain   Margaret?    l  Martin    Hyde?   etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK  : 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


FOR    JUDITH 


281433 


CONTENTS 

CHA.PTEB  PACK 

I     MY    FIRST    JOURNEY            ...  I 

II     NIGHT    RIDERS          ....  8 

III  THE    MAN    ON    THE    MOUND        .             .  22 

IV  THE    HUT    IN    THE    GORSE-BUSHES         .  39 
V     THE    LAST   VOYAGE    OF    CTHE    SNAIL  '  57 

VI     THE    OWL'S    CRY        .             .             .  J I 

VII     THE    TWO    COAST    GUARDS            .  8 1 

VIII     THE    CAVE    IN    THE    CLIFF            .             .  QO 

IX     SIGNING    ON  .             .             .             .             .  lOJ 

X     ABOARD    THE    LUGGER        .  .  .114 

XI     THE    FRIGRATE    C LOOCOftN  '         .             .  123 

XII     BLACK    POOL    BAY    ....  134 

XIII  IN    THE    VALLEY        ....  147 

XIV  A    TRAITOR      .             .             .             .             .  l6o 
XV     THE    BATTLE    ON    THE    SHORE     .             .  171 

XVI     DRIFTING          .  .  .  .  .185 

XVII     THE    CBLUE    BOAR  '                 .             .             .  197 

XVIII     TRACKED           .....  209 

XIX     THE    ROAD    TO    LONDON    .  ,  .219 

XX     THE    GIPSY    CAMP     .                           .             .  230 
vii 


JIM  DAVIS 


CHAPTER   I 

MY   FIRST   JOURNEY 

I  WAS  born  in  the  year  1800,  in  the  town  of 
Newnham-on-Severn,  in  Gloucestershire. 
I  am  sure  of  the  year,  because  my  father 
always  told  me  that  I  was  born  at  the  end 
of  the  century,  in  the  year  that  they  began 
to  build  the  great  house.  The  house  has 
been  finished  now  these  many  years.  The 
red-brick  wall,  which  shuts  its  garden  from 
the  road  (and  the  Severn),  is  all  covered 
with  valerian  and  creeping  plants.  One 
of  my  earliest  memories  is  of  the  masons 
at  work,  shaping  the  two  great  bows.  I 
remember  how  my  nurse  used  to  stop  to 
watch  them,  at  the  corner  of  the  road,  on 
the  green  strip  by  the  river-bank,  where 
the  gipsies  camped  on  the  way  to  Gloucester 
horse-fair.  One  of  the  masons  was  her 
A  i 


2  JIM   DAVIS 

sweetheart  (Tom  Farrell  his  name  was), 
but  he  got  into  bad  ways,  I  remember,  and 
was  hanged  or  transported,  though  that 
was  years  afterwards,  when  I  had  left  that 
countryside. 

My  father  and  mother  died  when  I  was 
still  a  boy — my  mother  on  the  day  of 
Trafalgar  battle,  in  1805,  my  father  four 
years  later.  It  was  very  sad  at  home  after 
mother  died ;  my  father  shut  himself  up 
in  his  study,  never  seeing  anybody.  When 
my  father  died,  my  uncle  came  to  Newnham 
from  his  home  in  Devonshire  ;  my  old  home 
was  sold  then,  and  I  was  taken  away.  I 
remember  the  day  so  very  clearly.  It  was 
one  sunny  morning  in  early  April.  My 
uncle  and  I  caught  the  coach  at  the  top 
of  the  hill,  at  the  door  of  the  old  inn 
opposite  the  church.  The  coachman  had 
a  hot  drink  handed  up  to  him,  and  the 
ostlers  hitched  up  the  new  team.  Then  the 
guard  (he  had  a  red  coat,  like  a  soldier) 
blew  his  horn,  and  the  coach  started  off 
down  the  hill,  going  so  very  fast  that  I 
was  afraid,  for  I  had  never  ridden  on  a 
coach  before,  though  I  had  seen  them  every 
day.  The  last  that  I  saw  of  Newnham 
was  the  great  house  at  the  corner.  It  was 


MY  FIRST  JOURNEY  3 

finished  by  that  time,  of  course,  and  as 
we  drove  past  I  saw  the  beautiful  woman 
who  lived  there  walking  up  and  down  the 
lawn  with  her  husband,  Captain  Rylands, 
a  very  tall,  handsome  man,  who  used  to 
give  me  apples.  I  was  always  afraid  to 
eat  the  apples,  because  my  nurse  said  that 
the  Captain  had  killed  a  man.  That  was 
in  the  wars  in  Spain,  fighting  against  the 
French. 

I  remember  a  great  deal  about  my  first 
coach-ride.  We  slept  that  night  at  Bristol 
in  one  of  the  famous  coaching  inns,  where, 
as  a  great  treat,  I  had  bacon  and  eggs  for 
supper,  instead  of  bread-and-milk.  In  the 
morning,  my  uncle  took  me  with  him  to 
the  docks,  where  he  had  some  business  to 
do.  That  was  the  first  time  I  ever  really 
saw  big  ships,  and  that  was  the  first  time 
I  spoke  with  the  sailors.  There  was  a 
capstan  on  one  of  the  wharves,  and  men 
were  at  work,  heaving  round  it,  hoisting 
casks  out  of  a  West  Indiaman.  One  of  the 
men  said,  '  Come  on,  young  master ;  give  us 
a  hand  on  the  bar  here.'  So  I  put  my 
hands  on  to  the  bar  and  pushed  my  best, 
walking  beside  him  till  my  uncle  called  me 
away.  There  were  many  ships  there  at  the 


4  JIM   DAVIS 

time,  all  a  West  Indian  convoy,  and  it  was 
fine  to  see  their  great  figure-heads,  and  the 
brass  cannon  at  the  ports,  and  to  hear  the 
men  singing  out  aloft  as  they  shifted  spars 
and  bent  and  unbent  sails.  They  were  all 
very  lofty  ships,  built  for  speed ;  all  were 
beautifully  kept,  like  men-of-war,  and  all 
of  them  had  their  house-flags  and  red 
ensigns  flying,  so  that  in  the  sun  they  looked 
splendid.  I  shall  never  forget  them. 

After  that,  we  went  back  to  the  inn,  and 
climbed  into  another  coach,  and  drove  for  a 
long,  long  time,  often  very  slowly,  till  we 
reached  a  place  near  Newton  Abbot,  where 
there  was  a  kind  woman  who  put  me  to  bed 
(I  was  too  tired  to  notice  more).  Then, 
the  next  morning,  I  remember  a  strange  man 
who  was  very  cross  at  breakfast,  so  that  the 
kind  woman  cried  till  my  uncle  sent  me  out 
of  the  room.  It  is  funny  how  these  things 
came  back  to  me  ;  it  might  have  been  only 
yesterday. 

Late  that  afternoon  we  reached  the  south 
coast  of  Devon,  so  that  we  had  the  sea 
close  beside  us  until  the  sun  set.  I  heard 
the  sea,  as  I  thought,  when  we  reached  my 
uncle's  house,  at  the  end  of  the  twilight ; 
but  they  told  me  that  it  was  a  trout-stream, 


MY  FIRST  JOURNEY  5 

brawling  over  its  boulders,  and  that -the  sea 
was  a  full  mile  away.  My  aunt  heiped  to 
put  me  to  bed,  but  I  was  too  much  excited 
to  sleep  well.  I  lay  awake  for  a  long,  long 
time,  listening  to  the  noise  of  the  brook, 
and  to  the  wind  among  the  trees  outside, 
and  to  the  cuckoo  clock  on  the  landing 
calling  out  the  hours  and  half-hours.  When 
I  fell  asleep  I  seemed  to  hear  the  sea  and 
the  crying  out  of  the  sailors.  Voices  seemed 
to  be  talking  close  beside  me  in  the  room  ; 
I  seemed  to  hear  all  sorts  of  things,  strange 
things,  which  afterwards  really  happened. 
There  was  a  night-light  burning  on  the 
wash-handstand.  Whenever  I  woke  up  in 
the  night  the  light  would  show  rne  the 
shadow  of  the  water  jug  upon  the  ceiling, 
It  looked  like  an  old,  old  man,  with  a 
humped  back,  walking  the  road,  bowed  over 
his  cudgel. 

I  am  not  going  to  say  very  much  about 
my  life  during  the  next  few  years.  My  aunt 
and  uncle  had  no  children  of  their  own,  and 
no  great  fondness  for  the  children  of  others. 
Sometimes  I  was  very  lonely  there ;  but 
after  my  tenth  birthday  I  was  at  school  most 
of  my  time,  at  Newton  Abbot.  I  used  to 
spend  my  Easter  holidays  (never  more  than 


6  JIM   DAVIS 

a  week)  with  the  kind  woman  who  put  me 
to  bed  that  night  of  my  journey.  My 
summer  and  winter  holidays  I  spent  with 
my  uncle  and  aunt  in  their  little  house  above 
the  trout-stream. 

The  trout-stream  rose  about  three  miles 
from  my  uncle's  house,  in  a  boggy  wood  full 
of  springs.  It  was  a  very  rapid  brook, 
nowhere  more  than  three  or  four  feet  deep, 
and  never  more  than  twenty  feet  across, 
even  near  its  mouth.  Below  my  uncle's 
house  it  was  full  of  little  falls,  with  great 
mossy  boulders  which  checked  its  flow,  and 
pools  where  the  bubbles  spun.  Further 
down,  its  course  was  gentler,  for  the  last 
mile  to  the  sea  was  a  flat  valley,  with 
combes  on  each  side  covered  with  gorse  and 
bramble.  The  sea  had  once  come  right  up 
that  valley  to  just  below  my  uncle's  house  ; 
but  that  was  many  years  before — long  before 
anybody  could  remember.  Just  after  I 
went  to  live  there,  one  of  the  farmers  dug  a 
drain,  or  'rhine,'  in  the  valley,  to  clear  a 
boggy  patch.  He  dug  up  the  wreck  of  a 
large  fishing-boat,  with  her  anchor  and  a 
few  rusty  hoops  lying  beside  her  under 
the  ooze  about  a  foot  below  the  surface. 
She  must  have  sailed  right  up  from  the  sea 


MY   FIRST  JOURNEY  7 

hundreds  of  years  ago,  before  the  brook's 
mouth  got  blocked  with  shingle  (as  I  suppose 
it  was)  during  some  summer  gale  when  the 
stream  was  nearly  dry.  Often,  when  I  was 
a  boy,  I  used  to  imagine  the  ships  coming 
up  from  the  sea,  along  that  valley,  firing 
their  cannon.  In  the  winter,  when  the 
snow  melted,  the  valley  would  be  flooded, 
till  it  looked  just  like  a  sea,  and  then  I  would 
imagine  sea-fights  there,  with  pirates  in  red 
caps  boarding  Spanish  treasure  galleons. 

The  sea-coast  is  mostly  very  bold  in  that 
part  of  Devon.  Even  where  there  are  no 
cliffs,  the  land  rises  steeply  from  the  sea, 
in  grassy  hills,  with  boulders  and  broken 
rock,  instead  of  a  beach,  below  them. 
There  are  small  sandy  beaches  wherever 
the  brooks  run  into  the  sea.  Everywhere 
else  the  shore  is  '  steep-to ' — so  much  so  that 
in  many  places  it  is  very  difficult  to  reach 
the  sea.  I  mention  this  because,  later  on, 
that  steep  coast  gave  me  some  queer 
adventures. 


CHAPTER   II 

NIGHT-RIDERS* 

WHEN  I  was  twelve  years  old,  something 
very  terrible  happened,  with  good  results 
for  myself.  The  woman  near  Newton 
Abbot  (I  have  spoken  of  her  several  times) 
was  a  Mrs  Cottier,  the  wife  of  a  school- 
master. Her  husband  used  to  drink  very 
hard,  and  in  this  particular  year  he  was 
turned  out  of  the  school,  and  lost  his  living. 
His  wife  left  him  then  (or  rather  he  left  her ; 
for  a  long  time  no  one  knew  what  became 
of  him)  and  came  to  live  with  us,  bringing 
with  her  little  Hugh  Cottier,  her  son,  a  boy 
of  about  my  own  age.  After  that,  life  in 
my  uncle's  house  was  a  different  thing  to 
me.  Mrs  Cottier  was  very  beautiful  and 
kind ;  she  was  like  my  mother,  strangely 
like,  always  sweet  and  gentle,  always  helpful 
and  wise.  I  think  she  was  the  dearest 
woman  who  ever  lived.  I  was  always  proud 


NIGHT  RIDERS  9 

when   she  asked    me  to  do  something   for 
her. 

Once,  I  remember  (in  the  winter  after 
Mrs  Cottier  came  to  us),  she  drove  to 
Salcombe  to  do  her  Christmas  shopping. 
It  came  on  to  snow  during  the  afternoon  ; 
and  at  night-time  the  storm  grew  worse. 
We  put  back  supper,  expecting  her  to  come 
in  at  any  minute,  but  she  did  not  come. 
The  hours  went  by,  and  still  she  did  not 
come,  and  still  the  storm  worsened.  The 
wind  was  not  very  high,  but  the  air  was  full 
of  a  fine,  powdery,  drifting  snow  ;  the  night 
seemed  full  of  snow  ;  snow  fell  down  the 
chimney  and  drifted  in  under  the  door.  My 
uncle  was  too  lame  with  sciatica  to  leave 
his  bed;  and  my  aunt,  always  a  woman  of 
poor  spirit,  was  afraid  of  the  night.  At 
eight  o'clock  I  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
so  I  said  that  I  would  saddle  the  pony,  and 
ride  out  along  the  Salcombe  road  to  find 
her.  Hugh  was  for  going  in  my  place  ;  but 
Hugh  was  not  so  strongly  built  as  I,  and 
I  felt  that  Hugh  would  faint  after  an  hour 
in  the  cold.  I  put  on  double  clothes,  with 
an  oilskin  jacket  over  all,  and  then  lit  the 
lantern,  and  beat  out  of  the  house  to  the 
stable.  I  put  one  or  two  extra  candles  in 


10  JIM   DAVIS 

my  pockets,  with  a  flint  and  steel,  and  some 
bread  and  meat.  Something  prompted  me 
to  take  a  hank  of  cord,  and  a  heavy  old  boat- 
rug  ;  and  with  all  these  things  upon  him 
old  Greylegs,  the  pony,  was  heavy-laden. 

When  we  got  into  the  road  together,  I 
could  not  see  a  yard  in  front  of  me.  There 
was  nothing  but  darkness  and  drifting  snow 
and  the  gleam  of  the  drifts  where  the  light 
of  the  lantern  fell.  There  was  no  question 
of  losing  the  road ;  for  the  road  was  a 
Devon  lane,  narrow  and  deep,  built  by  the 
ancient  Britons,  so  everybody  says,  to  give 
them  protection  as  they  went  down  to  the 
brooks  for  water.  If  it  had  been  an  open 
road,  I  could  never  have  found  my  way 
for  fifty  yards.  I  was  strongly  built  for  a 
boy ;  even  at  sea  I  never  suffered  much 
from  the  cold,  and  this  night  was  not 
intensely  cold — snowy  weather  seldom  is. 
What  made  the  ride  so  exhausting  was  the 
beating  of  the  snow  into  my  eyes  and 
mouth.  It  fell  upon  me  in  a  continual  dry 
feathery  pelting,  till  I  was  confused  and 
tired  out  with  the  effort  of  trying  to  see 
ahead.  For  a  little  while,  I  had  the  roar 
of  the  trout-stream  in  my  ears  to  comfort 
me ;  but  when  I  topped  the  next  combe 


NIGHT  RIDERS  11 

that  died  away ;  and  there  I  was  in  the 
night,  beating  on  against  the  storm,  with 
the  strange  moaning  sound  of  the  wind  from 
Dartmoor,  and  the  snow  rustling  to  keep  me 
company.  I  was  not  exactly  afraid,  for  the 
snow  in  my  face  bothered  me  too  much,  but 
often  the  night  would  seem  full  of  people — 
laughing,  horrible  people — and  often  I  would 
think  that  I  saw  Mrs  Cottier  lying  half- 
buried  in  a  drift. 

I  rode  three  miles  or  more  without 
seeing  anybody.  Then,  just  before  I 
reached  the  moor  cross-roads,  in  a  lull  when 
the  snow  was  not  so  bad,  I  heard  a  horse 
whinny,  and  old  Greylegs  baulked.  Then 
I  heard  voices  and  a  noise  as  of  people 
riding ;  and  before  I  could  start  old  Grey- 
legs  I  saw  a  party  of  horsemen  crossing  my 
road  by  the  road  from  the  sea  to  Dartmoor. 
They  were  riding  at  a  quick  trot,  and  though 
there  were  many  horses  (some  thirty  or 
forty),  I  could  see,  even  in  that  light,  that 
most  of  them  were  led.  There  were  not 
more  than  a  dozen  men  ;  and  only  one,  of 
all  that  dozen  carried  a  lantern.  Something 
told  me  that  they  were  out  for  no  good,  and 
the  same  instinct  made  me  cover  my  lantern 
with  my  coat,  so  that  they  passed  me  without 


12  JIM   DAVIS 

seeing  me.  At  first  I  thought  that  they 
were  the  fairy  troop,  and  that  gave  me  an 
awful  fear  ;  but  a  moment  later,  in  the  wind, 
I  felt  a  whiff  of  tobacco,  and  of  a  strong, 
warm,  sweet  smell  of  spirits,  and  I  knew 
then  that  they  were  the  night-riders  or 
smugglers.  After  they  had  gone,  I  forced 
old  Greylegs  forward,  and  trotted  on, 
against  the  snow,  for  another  half-mile, 
with  my  heart  going  thump  upon  my  ribs. 
I  had  an  awful  fear  that  they  would  turn, 
and  catch  me  ;  and  I  knew  that  the  night- 
riders  wanted  no  witnesses  of  their 
adventures  in  the  dark. 

About  four  miles  from  home,  I  came  to 
an  open  part  of  the  road,  where  the  snow 
came  down  in  its  full  fury,  there  being 
no  hedge  to  give  a  little  shelter.  It  was 
so  thick  that  I  could  not  get  Greylegs  to  go 
on.  He  stood  stock-still,  and  cowered, 
though  I  beat  him  with  my  hank  of  cord, 
and  kicked  his  ribs.  It  was  cruel  of  me  ; 
but  I  thought  of  Mrs  Cottier,  with  her 
beautiful  kind  face,  lying  in  a  drift  of  snow, 
and  the  thought  was  dreadful  to  me.  I 
got  down  from  the  saddle,  and  put  my 
lantern  on  the  ground,  and  tried  to  drag 
him  forward,  but  it  was  useless.  He  would 


NIGHT  RIDERS  13 

not  have  stirred  if  I  had  lighted  a  fire  under 
him.  When  he  had  the  instinct  to  stand 
still,  nothing  would  make  him  budge  a  yard. 
A  very  fierce  gust  came  upon  me  then. 
The  snow  seemed  to  whirl  upon  me  from 
all  sides,  so  that  I  got  giddy  and  sick.  And 
then,  just  at  the  moment,  there  were 
horses  and  voices  all  about  me,  coming  from 
Salcombe  way.  Somebody  called  out, 
'  Hullo,'  and  somebody  called  out  (  Look 
out,  behind  ; '  and  then  a  lot  of  horses  pulled 
up  suddenly,  and  some  men  spoke,  and  a 
led  horse  shied  at  my  lantern.  I  had  no 
time  to  think  or  to  run.  I  felt  myself 
backing  into  old  Greylegs  in  sheer  fright ; 
and  then  some  one  thrust  a  lantern  into 
my  face,  and  asked  me  who  I  was.  By  the 
light  of  the  lantern  I  saw  that  he  wore 
a  woman's  skirt  over  his  trousers ;  and  his 
face  was  covered  by  one  of  those  great 
straw  bee-skeps,  pierced  with  holes  for 
his  eyes  and  mouth.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  terrible  things  I  have  ever 
seen. 

'Why,  it's  a  boy,'  said  the  terrible  man, 
'  What  are  you  doing  here,  boy  ? ' 

Another  man,  who  seemed  to  be  a  leader, 
called  out  from  his  horse,  '  Who  are  you  ? ' 


; 


14  JIM   DAVIS 

but  I  was  too  scared  to  answer ;  my  teeth 
were  rattling  in  my  head. 

'  It's  a  trick/  said  another  voice.  'We 
had  best  go  for  the  moor.1 

*  Shut  up,'  said  the  leader,  sharply,  *  The 
boy's  scared.' 

He  got  down  from  his  horse,  and  peered 
at  me  by  the  lantern  light.  He,  too,  wore  a 
bee-skep  ;  in  fact,  they  all  did,  for  there  is 
no  better  disguise  in  the  world,  while  nothing 
makes  a  man  look  more  horrible.  I  was  not 
quite  so  terrified  by  this  time,  because  he 
had  spoken  kindly. 

1  Who  are  you  ?  '  he  asked.  c  We  shan't 
eat  you.  What  are  you  doing  here  ? ' 

As  well  as  I  could  I  told  him.  The 
leader  strode  off  a  few  paces,  and  spoke 
with  one  or  two  other  men  ;  but  I  could  only 
catch  the  words,  '  Yes  ;  yes,  Captain,'  spoken 
in  a  low,  quick  voice,  which  seemed  somehow 
familiar.  Then  he  came  back  to  me,  and 
took  me  by  the  throat,  and  swayed  me  to 
and  fro,  very  gently,  but  in  a  way  which 
made  me  feel  that  I  was  going  to  be 
killed. 

'  Tell  me/  he  said,  '  I  shall  know  whether 
you're  lying,  so  tell  the  truth,  now.  What 
have  you  seen  to-night  ? ' 


NIGHT  RIDERS  15 

I  told  him  that  I  had  seen  a  troop  of 
horsemen  going  through  the  snow  towards 
the  moor. 

'That  settles  it,  Captain/  said  another 
voice.  '  You  can't  trust  a  young  chap  like 
that/ 

'  Shut  up,'  said  the  man  they  called  Captain ; 
'  I'm  master,  not  you.' 

He  strode  off  again,  to  speak  to  another 
man.  I  heard  some  one  laugh  a  little,  and 
then  the  Captain  came  back  to  me.  He  took 
me  by  the  throat  as  before,  and  again  shook 
me.  'You  listen  to  me,'  he  said,  grimly. 
'  If  you  breathe  so  much  as  one  word  of 
what  youVe  seen  to-night — well — I  shall 
know.  D'ye  hear?  I  shall  know.  And 
when  I  know — well — your  little  neck'll  go. 
There's  poetry.  That  will  help  you  re- 
member— 

4  When  I  know, 
Your  neck'll  go 
,  Like  so.' 

He  gave  a  sharp  little  twist  of  his  hand 
upon  my  Adam's  apple. 

I  was  terrified.  I  don't  know  what  I  said  ; 
my  tongue  seemed  to  wither  on  its  stalk. 
The  Captain  walked  to  his  horse,  and  re- 
mounted. '  Come  along,  boys,'  he  said.  The 


16  JIM   DAVIS 

line  of  horses  started  off  again.  A  hand  fell 
upon  my  shoulder,  and  a  voice  spoke  kindly 
to  me.  *  See  here/  it  said,  '  you  go  on 
another  half-mile,  you'll  find  a  barn  by  the 
side  of  the  road.  There's  no  door  on  the 
barn,  and  you'll  see  a  fire  inside.  You'll 
find  your  lady  there.  She  is  safe  all  right. 
You  keep  your  tongue  shut  now.' 

The  speaker  climbed  into  his  saddle,  and 
trotted  off  into  the  night.  '  Half  a  mile. 
Straight  ahead ! '  he  called  ;  then  the  dull 
tramplingdied  away,  and  I  was  left  alone  again 
with  Greylegs.  Some  minutes  passed  before 
I  could  mount ;  for  I  was  stiff  with  fright. 
I  was  too  frightened,  after  that  to  mind  the 
snow  ;  I  was  almost  too  frightened  to  ride. 
Luckily  for  me  the  coming  of  the  night- 
riders  had  startled  old  Greylegs  also ;  he 
trotted  on  gallantly,  though  sometimes  he 
floundered  into  a  drift,  and  had  to  be 
helped  out. 

Before  I  came  to  the  barn  the  snow 
stopped  falling,  except  for  a  few  aimless 
flakes,  which  drifted  from  all  sides  in  the 
air.  It  was  very  dark  still  ;  the  sky  was  like 
ink  ;  but  there  was  a  feel  of  freshness  (I  can- 
not describe  it)  which  told  me  that  the  wind 
had  changed.  Presently  I  saw  the  barn 


NIGHT  RIDERS  17 

ahead  of  me,  to  the  right  of  the  road,  spread- 
ing a  red  glow  of  fire  across  the  way.  Old 
Greylegs  seemed  glad  of  the  sight ;  he  gave 
a  whinny  and  snorted.  As  well  as  he  could 
he  broke  into  a  canter,  and  carried  me  up  to 
the  door  in  style. 

'Are  you  safe,  Mrs  Cottier?'  I  called 
out. 

1  What !  Jim  ! '  she  answered.  '  How 
good  of  you  to  come  for  me ! ' 

The  barn,  unlike  most  barns  in  that 
country,  was  of  only  one  storey.  It  may  have 
been  a  farmhouse  in  the  long  ago,  for  it  had 
larger  windows  than  most  barns.  These 
had  been  stuffed  with  sacks  and  straw,  to 
keep  out  the  weather.  The  door  had  been 
torn  from  its  place  by  some  one  in  need  of 
firewood  ;  the  roof  was  fairly  sound ;  the 
floor  was  of  trampled  earth.  Well  away 
from  the  doorway,  in  the  centre  of  the  barn, 
some  one  had  lighted  a  fire,  using  (as  fuel) 
one  of  the  faggots  stacked  against  the  wall. 
The  ,smoke  had  long  since  blown  out  of 
doors.  The  air  in  the  barn  was  clear  and 
fresh.  The  fire  had  died  down  to  a  ruddy 
heap  of  embers,  which  glowed  and  grew  grey 
again,  as  the  draughts  fanned  them  from  the 
doorway.  By  the  light  of  the  fire  I  could 


18  JIM   DAVIS 

see  Mrs  Cottier,  sitting  on  the  floor,  with 
her  back  against  the  wheel  of  her  trap, 
which  had  been  dragged  inside  to  be  out  of 
the  snow.  I  hitched  old  Greylegs  to  one 
of  the  iron  bolts,  which  had  once  held  a 
door-hinge,  and  ran  to  her  to  make  sure  that 
she  was  unhurt. 

'How  in  the  world  did  you  get  here ? '  I 
asked.  '  Are  you  sure  you're  not  hurt  ? ' 

She  laughed  a  little  at  this,  and  I  got  out 
my  stores,  and  we  made  our  supper  by  the 
fire.  'Where's  old  Nigger?'  I  asked  her; 
for  I  was  puzzled  by  seeing  no  horse. 

'  Oh,  Jim/  she  said,  '  I've  had  such  adven- 
tures.' 

When  she  had  eaten  a  little  she  told  me 
her  story. 

' 1  was  coming  home  from  Salcombe,'  she 
said,  '  and  I  was  driving  fast,  so  as  to  get 
home  before  the  snow  lay  deep.  Just  out- 
side Southpool,  Nigger  cast  a  shoe,  and  I 
was  kept  waiting  at  the  forge  for  nearly  half 
an  hour.  After  that,  the  snow  was  so  bad 
that  I  could  not  get  along.  It  grew  dark 
when  I  was  only  a  mile  or  two  from  the 
blacksmith's,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  I 
should  never  get  home.  However,  as  I 
drove  through  Stokenham,  the  weather 


NIGHT   RIDERS  19 

seemed  to  clear  a  little,  so  I  hurried  Nigger 
all  I  could,  hoping  to  get  home  in  the  lull. 
When  I  got  to  within  a  hundred  yards  from 
here,  in  the  little  hollow,  where  the  stunted 
ashes  are,  I  found  myself  among  a  troop  of 
horsemen,  who  stopped  me,  and  asked  me 
a  lot  of  questions.  They  were  all  disguised, 
and  they  had  lanterns  among  them,  and  I 
could  see  that  the  horses  carried  tubs  ;  I 
suppose  full  of  smuggled  lace  and  brandy  and 
tobacco,  ready  to  be  carried  inland.  Jim, 
dear,  I  was  horribly  frightened  ;  for  while 
they  were  speaking  together  I  thought  I 
heard  the  voice  of — of  some  one  I  know — or 
used  to  know/ 

She  stopped  for  a  moment  overcome,  and 
I  knew  at  once  that  she  was  speaking  of  her 
husband,  the  schoolmaster  that  was.  'And 
then/  she  continued,  *  some  of  them  told  me 
to  get  down  out  of  the  trap.  And  then 
another  of  them  seized  Nigger's  head,  and 
walked  the  trap  as  far  as  the  barn  here. 
Then  they  unharnessed  Nigger,  and  led  him 
away,  saying  they  were  short  of  horses 
but  would  send  him  back  in  a  day  or  twc 
They  seemed  to  know  all  about  me,  where  I 
lived,  and  everything.  One  of  them  took  a 
faggot  from  a  wall  here,  and  laid  the  big  fire, 


20  JIM   DAVIS 

with  straw  instead  of  paper.  While  he  lit  it 
he  kept  his  great  bee-skep  on  his  head  (they 
all  wore  them),  but  I  noticed  he  had  three 
blue  rings  tattooed  on  his  left  ring-finger. 
Now,  somewhere  I  have  seen  a  man,  quite 
recently,  with  rings  tattooed  like  that,  only  I 
can't  remember  where.  I  wish  I  could  think 
where.  He  was  very  civil  and  gentle.  He 
saw  that  the  fire  burnt  up  well,  and  left  me 
all  those  sticks  and  logs,  as  well  as  the  flint 
and  steel,  in  case  it  should  go  out  before  the 
snow  stopped.  Oh,  and  he  took  the  rugs 
out  of  the  trap,  and  laid  them  on  the  ground 
for  me  to  sit  on.  Before  he  left,  he  said, 
very  civilly,  ' I  am  sure  you  don't  want  to  get 
folks  into  trouble,  madam.  Perhaps  you 
won't  mention  this,  in  case  they  ask  you.' 
So  I  said  that  I  didn't  want  to  get  people  into 
trouble  ;  but  that  it  was  hardly  a  manly  act  to 
leave  a  woman  alone,  in  an  open  barn,  miles 
from  anywhere,  on  a  night  like  to-night. 
He  seemed  ashamed  at  this ;  for  he  slunk 
off,  saying  something  about  "only  obeying 
orders,"  and  "  not  having  much  choice  in  the 
matter. n  Then  they  all  stood  about  outside, 
in  the  snow,  leaving  me  alone  here.  They 
must  have  stayed  outside  a  couple  of  hours. 
About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  you  came  I 


NIGHT  RIDERS  21 

heard  some  one  call  out,  *  There  it  is,  boys ! ' 
and  immediately  they  all  trotted  off,  at  a  smart 
pace.  They  must  have  seen  or  heard  some 
signal.  Of  course,  up  here  on  the  top  of  the 
combe,  one  could  see  a  long  way  if  the 
snow  lulled  for  a  moment/ 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  MAN  ON  THE  MOUND 

IT  was  very  awesome  sitting  there  by  the 
firelight  in  the  lonely  barn,  hearing  the 
strange  moan  of  the  snow-wind.  When 
Mrs  Cottier  finished  her  story  we  talked  of 
all  sorts  of  things ;  I  think  that  we  were 
both  a  little  afraid  of  being  silent  in  such  a 
place,  so,  as  we  ate,  we  kept  talking  just  as 
though  we  were  by  the  fireside  at  home.  I 
was  afraid  that  perhaps  the  revenue  officers 
would  catch  us  there  and  force  us  to  tell  all 
we  knew,  and  I  was  dreadfully  frightened 
when  I  remembered  the  captain  in  the  bee- 
skep  who  had  shaken  my  throat  and  given 
me  such  a  warning  to  be  silent.  When  we 
had  finished  our  supper,  I  told  Mrs  Cottier 
that  perhaps  we  could  harness  old  Greylegs 
to  the  trap,  but  this  she  thought  would  never 
do,  as  the  drifts  on  the  road  made  it  such 
bad  going ;  at  last  I  persuaded  her  to 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND    23 

mount  old  Greylegs  and  to  ride  astride  like 
a  boy,  or  like  so  many  of  the  countrywomen 
in  our  parts.  When  she  had  mounted  I 
took  the  old  pony  by  the  head  and  led  him 
out,  carrying  the  lantern  in  my  hand. 

When  we  got  outside  we  found,  to  our 
great  surprise  that  the  sky  had  cleared — it 
was  a  night  of  stars  now  that  the  wind  had 
changed.  By  the  '  blink '  of  the  snow  our 
road  was  quite  plain  to  us,  and  the  sharp 
touch  of  frost  in  the  air  (which  we  felt  all 
the  more  after  our  bonfire  in  the  barn)  had 
already  made  the  snow  crisp  underfoot.  It 
was  pleasant  to  be  travelling  like  that  so  late 
at  night  with  Mrs  Cottier ;  I  felt  like  a 
knight  who  had  just  rescued  a  princess  from 
a  dragon ;  we  talked  together  as  we  had 
never  talked  before.  Whenever  we  climbed 
a  bad  combe  she  dismounted,  and  we  walked 
together  hand  in  hand  like  dear  friends. 
Once  or  twice  in  the  quiet  I  thought  I 
heard  the  noise  of  the  excisemen's  horses, 
and  then  my  heart  thumped  in  my  throat ; 
then,  when  I  knew  myself  mistaken,  I  felt 
only  the  delight  of  being  of  service  to  this 
dear  woman  who  walked  by  me  so  merrily. 

When  we  came  to  the  foot  of  the  combe, 
to  the  bridge  over  the  trout-stream,  she 


24  JIM   DAVIS 

stopped  for  a  moment.  *  Jim/  she  said, 
drawing  me  to  her,  '  I  shall  never  forget 
to-night,  nor  the  little  friend  who  rode  out 
to  help  me ;  I  want  you,  after  this,  always 
to  look  on  me  as  your  mother — I  knew  your 
mother  a  little,  years  ago.  Well,  dear,  try 
to  think  of  me  as  you  would  of  her,  and  be  a 
brother  to  my  Hugh,  Jim  :  let  us  all  three 
be  one  family/  She  stooped  down  and 
kissed  my  cheek  and  lips. 

'I  will,  Mrs  Cottier/  I  said;  Til  always 
be  a  brother  to  Hugh.'  I  was  too  deeply 
moved  to  say  much  more,  for  I  had  so  long 
yearned  for  some  woman  like  my  mother  to 
whom  I  could  go  for  sympathy  and  to  whom 
I  could  tell  everything  without  the  fear  of 
being  snubbed  or  laughed  at.  I  just  said, 
'  Thank  you,  Mims.'  I  don't  know  why  I 
called  her  '  Mims '  then,  but  I  did,  and 
afterwards  I  never  called  her  anything  else  : 
that  was  my  secret  name  for  her.  She 
kissed  me  again  and  stroked  my  cheek 
with  her  hand,  and  we  went  on  again 
together  up  the  last  steep  bit  of  road  to 
the  house.  Always,  after  that,  I  never 
thought  of  Mrs  Cottier  without  feeling  her 
lips  upon  my  cheek  and  hearing  the 
stamp  of  old  Greylegs  as  he  pawed  on 


THE   MAN  ON   THE   MOUND      25 

the  snow,  eager  for  the  stable  just  round 
the  corner. 

It  was  very  nice  to  get  round  the  corner 
and  to  see  the  lights  of  the  house  a  little 
way  in  front  of  us  ;  in  a  minute  or  two  we 
were  there.  Mrs  Cottier  had  been  dragged 
in  to  the  fire  to  all  sorts  of  comforting  drinks 
and  exclamations,  and  old  Greylegs  was 
snug  in  his  stable  having  his  coat  rubbed 
down  before  going  to  sleep  under  his  rug. 
We  were  all  glad  to  get  to  bed  that  night : 
Hugh  and  my  aunt  were  tired  with  anxiety, 
and  Mrs  Cottier  and  I  had  had  enough 
adventure  to  make  us  very  thankful  for 
rest. 

Before  we  parted  for  the  night  she  drew 
me  to  one  side  and  told  me  that  she  had 
not  mentioned  the  night-riders  to  my  uncle 
and  aunt  while  I  was  busy  in  the  stable,  and 
that  it  might  be  safer  if  I,  too,  kept  quiet 
about  them.  I  do  not  know  how  she  ex- 
plained the  absence  of  Nigger,  but  I  am 
sure  they  were  all  too  thankful  to  have  her 
safely  home  again  to  bother  much  about  the 
details  of  her  drive. 

Hugh  and  I  always  slept  in  soldier's  cot- 
beds  in  a  little  room  looking  out  over  the 
lane.  During  the  night  we  heard  voices,  and 


26  JIM   DAVIS 

footsteps  moving  in  the  lane  beneath  us,  and 
our  dog  (always  kennelled  at  the  back  of 
the  house)  barked  a  good  deal.  Hugh  and 
I  crept  from  our  beds  and  peered  through 
the  window,  but  it  opened  the  wrong  way  ; 
we  could  only  look  down  the  lane,  whereas 
the  noise  seemed  to  come  from  just 
above  us,  near  the  stable  door;  unluckily, 
the  frost  had  covered  the  window  with  ice- 
flowers,  so  that  we  could  not  see  through 
the  glass.  We  were,  however,  quite  certain 
that  there  were  people  with  lights  close  to 
our  stable  door ;  we  thought  at  first  that  we 
had  better  call  Mrs.  Cottier,  and  then  it 
flashed  through  my  mind  that  these  were 
the  night-riders,  come  to  return  Nigger,  so 
I  told  Hugh  to  go  back  to  bed  and  forget 
about  it.  I  waited  at  the  window  for  a  few 
moments,  wondering  if  the  men  would  pass 
the  house  ;  I  felt  a  horrible  longing  to  see 
those  huge  and  ghastly  things  in  skirts  and 
bee-skeps  striding  across  the  snow,  going 
home  from  their  night's  prowl  like  skulking 
foxes  ;  but  whoever  they  were  they  took  no 
risks.  Some  one  softly  whistled  a  scrap 
of  a  tune  ('  Tom,  Tom,  the  piper's  son')  as 
though  he  were  pleased  at  having  finished  a 
good  piece  of  work,  and  then  I  heard  foot- 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND      27 

steps  going  over  the  gap  in  the  hedge  and 
the  crackling  of  twigs  in  the  little  wood  on 
the  other  side  of  the  lane.  I  went  back  to 
bed  and  slept  like  a  top  until  nearly  breakfast 
time. 

I  went  out  to  the  stable  as  soon  as  I  was 
dressed,  to  find  Joe  Barnicoat,  our  man,  busy 
at  his  morning's  work  ;  he  had  already  swept 
away  the  snow  from  the  doors  of  the  house 
and  stable,  so  that  I  could  not  see  what  foot- 
marks had  been  made  there  since  I  went  to 
fetch  Greylegs  at  eight  the  night  before. 
Joe  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  for 
during  the  night  the  stable  had  been  broken 
open.  I  had  left  it  locked  up,  as  it  always 
was  locked,  after  I  had  made  Greylegs 
comfortable.  When  Joe  came  there  at  about 
half-past  seven,  he  had  found  the  broken 
padlock  lying  in  the  snow  and  the  door- 
staple  secured  by  a  wooden  peg  cut  from  an 
ash  in  the  hedge.  As  I  expected,  Nigger 
was  in  his  stall,  but  the  poor  horse  was  dead 
lame  from  a  cut  in  the  fetlock  :  Joe  said  he 
must  have  been  kicked  there.  I  wTas 
surprised  to  find  that  the  trap  also  had  come 
home — there  it  was  in  its  place  writh  the 
snow  still  unmelted  on  its  wheels.  I  helped 
Joe  to  dress  poor  Nigger's  leg,  saying  that 


28  JIM   DAVIS 

it  was  pity  we  had  not  noticed  it  before, 
Joe  was  grumbling  about  *  some  people  not 
having  enough  sense  to  know  when  a  horse 
was  lame/  so  I  let  him  grumble. 

When  we  had  dressed  the  wound,  I  turned 
to  the  trap  to  lift  out  Mrs  Cottier's  parcels, 
which  I  carried  indoors.  Breakfast  was 
ready  "on  the  table,  and  Mrs  Cottier  and 
Hugh  were  toasting  some  bread  at  the  fire. 
My  aunt  was,  of  course,  breakfasting  up- 
stairs with  my  uncle ;  he  was  hardly  able  to 
stir  with  sciatica,  poor  man ;  he  needed 
somebody  to  feed  him. 

'  Good  morning,  Mims  dear/  I  cried. 
'What  do  you  think?  The  trap's  come 
back  and  here  are  all  your  parcels/  I  noticed 
then  (I  had  not  noticed  it  before)  that  one 
of  the  parcels  was .  very  curiously  wrapped. 
It  was  wrapped  in  an  old  sack,  probably  one 
of  those  which  filled  the  windows  of  the 
barn,  for  bits  of  straw  still  stuck  in  the 
threads. 

*  Whatever    have   you   got   there,    Jim?' 
said  Mrs  Cottier. 

'  One  of  your  parcels/  I  answered  ;  *  I've 
just  taken  it  out  of  the  trap/ 

*  Let  me  see  it/  she  said.      *  There  must 
be  some  mistake.     That's  not  one  of  mine,' 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND     29 

She  took  the  parcel  from  me  and  turned  it 
over  before  opening  it. 

On  turning  the  package  over,  we  saw  that 
some  one  had  twisted  a  piece  of  dirty 
grey  paper  (evidently  wrapping-paper  from 
the  grocer's  shop)  about  the  rope  yarn 
which  kept  the  roll  secure.  Mrs  Cottier 
noticed  it  first.  'Oh/  she  cried,  'there's  a 
letter,  too.  I  wonder  if  it's  meant 
for  me  ? ' 

We  untied  the  ropeyarn  and  the  paper  fell 
upon  the  table  ;  we  opened  it  out,  wondering 
what  message  could  be  written  on  it.  It  was 
a  part  of  a  grocer's  sugar  bag,  written  upon 
in  the  coarse  black  crayon  used  by  the  tally- 
men on  the  quays  at  Kingsbridge.  The 
writing  was  disguised,  so  as  to  give  no  clue 
to  the  writer ;  the  letters  were  badly-formed 
printer's  capitals  ;  the  words  were  ill-spelled, 
and  the  whole  had  probably  been  written  in 
a  hurry,  perhaps  by  the  light  of  our  fire  in 
the  barn. 

'  Hors  is  laimd,'  said  the  curious  letter. 
'  Regret  inconvenuns  axept  Respect  from  obt 
servt  Captin  Sharp.' 

'Very  sweet  and  to  the  point,'  said  Mrs 
Cottier.  '  Is  Nigger  lame,  then  ? ' 

'  Yes,'  I  answered.     '  Joe  says  he  has  been 


30  JIM    DAVIS 

kicked.  You  won't  be  able  to  drive  him  for 
some  time.' 

4  Poor  old  Nigger,'  said  Mrs  Cottier,  as  she 
unwrapped  the  parcel.  '  Now,  I  wonder 
what  "  Respect"  Captain  Sharp  has  sent 
me?' 

She  unrolled  the  sacking,  and  out  fell 
two  of  those  straw  cases  which  are  used  to 
protect  wine-bottles.  They  seemed  unusually 
bulky,  so  we  tore  them  open.  In  one  of 
them  there  was  a  roll,  covered  with  a  bit  of 
tarpaulin.  It  contained  a  dozen  yards  of 
very  beautiful  Malines  lace.  The  other  case 
was  full  of  silk  neckerchiefs  packed  very 
tightly,  eleven  altogether ;  most  of  them  of 
uncoloured  silk,  but  one  of  green  and  another 
of  blue — worth  a  lot  of  money  in  those  days, 
and  perhaps  worth  more  to-day,  now  that 
such  fine  silk  is  no  longer  woven. 

'So  this  is  what  we  get  for  the  loan  of 
Nigger,  Jim/  said  Mrs  Cottier.  'We  ought, 
by  rights,  to  give  these  things  to  the  revenue 
officer.' 

'Yes,'  I  said,  '  but  if  we  do  that,  we  shall 
have  to  say  how  they  came,  and  why  they 
came,  and  then  perhaps  the  exciseman  will 
get  a  clue,  and  we  shall  have  brought  the 
night-riders  into  trouble.' 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND      31 

It  was  cowardly  of  me  to  speak  like  this ; 
but  you  must  remember  that  I  had  been  in 
'Captain  Sharp's'  hands  the  night  before,  and 
I  was  still  terrified  by  his  threat — 

*  When  I  know, 
Your  neck'll  go 
Like  so/ 

'Well,'  said  Mrs  Cottier,  looking  at  me 
rather  sharply,  '  we  will  keep  the  things,  and 
say  nothing  about  them  :  but  we  must  find 
out  what  duty  should  be  paid  on  them,  and 
send  it  to  the  exciseman  at  Dartmouth. 
That  will  spare  our  consciences.' 

After  breakfast,  Mrs  Cottier  went  to  give 
orders  to  the  servant,  while  Hugh  and  I 
slipped  down  the  lane  to  see  how  the  snow 
had  drifted  in  our  little  orchard  by  the  brook. 
We  had  read  somewhere  that  the  Red  Indians 
often  make  themselves  snow-houses,  or 
snow-burrows,  when  the  winter  is  severe. 
We  were  anxious  to  try  our  hands  at  making 
a  snow-house.  We  wanted  to  know  whether 
a  house  with  snow  walls  could  really  be 
warm,  and  we  pictured  to  ourselves  how 
strange  it  would  be  to  be  shut  in  by  walls  of 
snow,  with  only  one  little  hole  for  air,  seeing 
nothing  but  the  white  all  round  us,  having  no 
window  to  look  through.  We  thought  that 


32  JIM   DAVIS 

it  would  be  wonderful  to  have  a  snow-house, 
especially  if  snow  fell  after  the  roof  had  been 
covered  in,  for  then  no  one  could  know  if 
the  dweller  were  at  home.  One  would  lie 
very  still,  wrapped  up  in  buffalo  robes,  while 
all  the  time  the  other  Indians  would  be 
prowling  about  in  their  war-paint,  looking  for 
you.  Or  perhaps  the  Spaniards  would  be 
after  you  with  their  bloodhounds,  and  you 
would  get  down  under  the  snow  in  the  forest 
somewhere,  and  the  snow  would  fall  and  fall, 
covering  your  tracks,  till  nothing  could  be 
seen  but  a  little  tiny  hole,  melted  by  your 
breath,  through  which  you  got  fresh  air. 
Then  you  would  hear  the  horses  and  the 
armour  and  the  baying  of  the  hounds ;  but 
they  would  never  find  you,  though  their 
horses'  hoofs  might  almost  sink  through  the 
snow  to  your  body. 

We  went  down  to^the  orchard,  Hugh  and 
I,  determined  to  build  a  snow-house  if  the 
drifts  were  deep  enough.  We  were  not 
going  to  plunge  into  a  drift,  and  make  a  sort 
of  chamber  by  wrestling  our  bodies  about,  as 
the  Indians  do.  We  had  planned  to  dig  a 
square  chamber  in  the  biggest  drift  we  could 
find,  and  then  to  roof  it  over  with  an  old 
tarpaulin  stretched  upon  sticks.  We  were 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND     33 

going  to  cover  the  tarpaulin  with  snow,  in 
the  Indian  fashion,  and  we  had  planned  to 
make  a  little  narrow  passage,  like  a  fox's  earth, 
as  the  only  doorway  to  the  chamber. 

It  was  a  bright,  frosty  morning  :  the  sun 
shone,  the  world  sparkled,  the  sky  was  of  a 
dazzling  blue,  the  snow  gleamed  everywhere. 
Hoolie,  the  dog,  was  wild  with  excitement. 
He  ran  from  drift  to  drift,  snapping  up  mouth- 
fuls  of  snow,  and  burrowing  down  sideways 
till  he  was  half  buried. 

There  was  a  flower  garden  at  one  end  of 
the  orchard,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  garden 
there  was  a  summer-house.  The  house  was 
a  large,  airy  single  room  (overlooking  the 
stream),  with  a  space  beneath  it,  half-cave, 
half-cellar,  open  to  the  light,  where  Joe 
Barnicoat  kept  his  gardening  tools,  with  other 
odds-and-ends,  such  as  bast,  peasticks,  sieves, 
shears,  and  traps  for  birds  and  vermin.  Hugh 
and  I  went  directly  10  this  lower  chamber  to 
get  a  shovel  for  our  work.  We  stood  at  the 
entrance  for  a  moment  to  watch  Hoolie  play- 
ing in  the  snow ;  and  as  we  watched,  some- 
thing caught  my  eye  and  made  me  look  up 
sharply. 

Up  above  us,  on  the  side  of  the  combe 
beyond  the  lane,  among  a  waste  of  gorse,  in 
c 


34  JIM   DAVIS 

full  view  of  the  house  (and  of  the  orchard 
where  we  were),  there  was  a  mound  or 
barrow,  the  burial-place  of  an  ancient  British 
king.  It  was  a  beautifully-rounded  hill, 
some  twenty-five  feet  high.  A  year  or  two 
before  I  went  there  it  had  been  opened  by 
the  vicar,  who  found  inside  it  a  narrow  stone 
passage,  leading  to  an  inner  chamber,  walled 
with  unmortared  stone.  In  the  central 
chamber  there  were  broken  pots,  a  few 
bronze  spear-heads,  very  green  and  brittle, 
and  a  mass  of  burnt  bones.  The  doctor  said 
that  they  were  the  bones  of  horses.  On  the 
top  of  all  this  litter,  with  his  head  between 
his  knees,  there  sat  a  huge  skeleton.  The 
vicar  said  that  when  alive  the  man  must  have 
been  fully  six  feet  six  inches  tall,  and  large  in . 
proportion,  for  the  bones  were  thick  and 
heavy.  He  had  evidently  been  a  king :  he 
wore  a  soft  gold  circlet  round  his  head,  and 
three  golden  bangles  on  his  arms.  He  had 
been  killed  in  battle.  In  the  side  of  his 
skull  just  above  the  circle  of  gold,  there  was 
a  great  wound,  with  a  flint  axe-blade  firmly 
wedged  in  the  bone.  The  vicar  had  often 
told  me  about  this  skeleton.  I  remember  to 
this  day  the  shock  of  horror  which  came  upon 
mer  when  I  heard  of  this  great  dead  king, 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND     35 

sitting  in  the  dark  among  his  broken  goods, 
staring  out  over  the  valley.  The  country 
people  always  said  that  the  hill  was  a  fairy 
hill.  They  believed  that  the  pixies  went  to 
dance  there  whenever  the  moon  was  full.  I 
never  saw  the  pixies  myself,  but  somehow  I 
always  felt  that  the  hill  was  uncanny.  I 
never  passed  it  at  night  if  I  could  avoid  it. 

Now,  when  I  looked  up,  as  I  stood  with 
Hugh  watching  the  dog,  I  saw  something 
flash  upon  the  top  of  the  barrow.  In  that 
bright  sun,  with  all  the  snow  about,  many 
things  were  sparkling ;  but  this  thing 
gleamed  like  lightning,  suddenly,  and  then 
flashed  again.  Looking  at  it  sharply,  I  saw 
that  there  was  a  man  upon  the  barrow  top, 
apparently  lying  down  upon  the  snow.  He 
had  something  in  his  hand  turned  to  the  sun, 
a  piece  of  glass  perhaps,  or  a  tin  plate,  some 
very  bright  thing,  which  flashed.  He  flashed 
it  three  times  quickly,  then  paused,  then 
flashed  it  again.  He  seemed  to  be  looking 
intently  across  the  valley  to  the  top  of  the 
combe  beyond,  to  the  very  place  where  the 
road  from  Salcombe  swings  round  to  the  dip. 
Looking  in  that  direction,  I  saw  the  figure 
of  a  man  standing  on  the  top  of  the  wall 
against  a  stunted  holly-tree  at  the  curve  of 


36  JIM   DAVIS 

the  road.  I  had  to  look  intently  to  see  him 
at  all,  for  he  was  in  dark  clothes,  which 
shaded  off  unnoticed  against  the  leaves  of 
the  holly.  I  saw  him  jump  down  now  and 
again,  and  disappear  round  the  curve  of  the 
road  as  though  to  look  for  something.  Then 
he  would  run  back  and  flash  some  bright 
thing  once,  as  though  in  answer  to  the  man 
on  the  barrow. 

It  seemed  to  me  very  curious.  I  nudged 
Hugh's  arm,  and  slipped  into  the  shelter  of 
the  cave.  For  a  few  moments  we  watched 
the  signaller.  Then,  suddenly,  the  watcher 
at  the  road-bend  came  running  back  from  his 
little  tour  up  the  road,  waving  his  arms,  and 
flashing  his  bright  plate  as  he  ran.  We  saw 
him  spring  to  his  old  place  on  the  wall,  and 
jump  from  his  perch  into  the  ditch.  He  had 
some  shelter  there,  for  we  could  see  his  head 
peeping  out  above  the  snow  like  an  apple 
among  straw.  We  were  so  busy  watching 
the  head  among  the  snow  that  we  did  not 
notice  the  man  upon  the  barrow.  Some- 
thing made  us  glance  towards  him,  and,  to 
our  surprise  and  terror,  we  saw  him  running 
across  the  orchard  more  than  half-way 
towards  us.  In  spite  of  the  snow  he  ran 
swiftly.  We  were  frightened,  for  he  was 


THE   MAN   ON   THE   MOUND      37 

evidently  coming  towards  us.  He  saw  that 
we  saw  him,  and  lifted  one  arm  and  swung 
it  downwards  violently,  as  though  to  bid  us 
lie  down. 

I  glanced  at  Hugh  and  he  at  me,  and  that 
was  enough.  We  turned  at  once,  horribly 
scared,  and  ran  as  fast  as  we  could  along  the 
narrow  garden  path,  then  over  the  wall, 
stumbling  in  our  fright,  into  the  wood.  We 
did  not  know  why  we  ran  nor  where  we  were 
going.  We  only  felt  that  this  strange  man 
was  after  us,  coming  in  great  bounds  to 
catch  us.  We  were  too  frightened  to  run 
well ;  even  had  there  been  no  snow  upon 
the  ground  we  could  not  have  run  our  best. 
We  were  like  rabbits  pursued  by  a  stoat,  we 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  power  in  our  legs. 

We  had  a  good  start.  Perhaps  without 
that  fear  upon  us  we  might  have  reached  the 
house,  but  as  it  was  we  felt  as  one  feels  in  a 
nightmare,  unable  to  run  though  in  an  agony 
of  terror.  Getting  over  the  wall  was  the 
worst,  for  there  Hugh  stumbled  badly,  and  I 
had  to  turn  and  help  him,  watching  the  man 
bounding  ever  nearer,  signing  to  us  to  stay 
for  him.  A  minute  later,  as  we  slipped  and 
stumbled  through  the  scrub  of  the  wood, 
we  heard  him  close  behind  us,  crying  to  us 


38  JIM   DAVIS 

in  a  smothered  voice  to  stop.  We  ran  on, 
terrified  ;  and  then  Hugh's  foot  caught  in 
a  briar,  so  that  he  fell  headlong  with  a  little 
cry. 

I  turned  at  once  to  help  him  up,  feeling 
like  the  doe  rabbit,  which  turns  (they  say) 
against  a  weasel,  to  defend  its  young  ones. 
It  sounds  brave  of  me,  but  it  was  not :  I  was 
scared  almost  out  of  my  wits. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    HUT    IN    THE    GORSE-BUSHES 

THE  man  was  on  us  in  three  strides,  with  his 
hand  on  our  collars,  frightening  us  out  of  any 
power  to  struggle.  'You  young  fools/  he 
said,  not  unkindly.  '  Why  couldn't  you  stop 
when  I  waved  to  you  ? ' 

We  did  not  answer,  nor  did  he  seem  to 
expect  us  to  answer.  He  just  swung  us 
round  with  our  faces  from  the  house,  and 
hurried  us,  at  a  smart  run,  down  the  road. 
'  Don't  you  stir  a  muscle,'  he  added  as  he 
ran.  *  I'm  not  going  to  eat  you,  unless  you 
drive  me  to  it.' 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  wood,  nearly  half 
a  mile  from  our  home,  the  scrub  was  very 
thick.  It  seemed  to  be  a  tangle  of  briars, 
too  thick  for  hounds — too  thick,  almost,  for 
rabbits.  Hugh  and  I  had  never  been  in 
that  part  of  the  wood  before,  but  our  guide 
evidently  knew  it  well,  for  he  never  hesitated. 

39 


40  JIM   DAVIS 

He  swung  us  on,  panting  as  we  were,  along 
the  clearer  parts,  till  we  came  to  a  part  where 
our  way  seemed  stopped  by  gorse-bushes. 
They  rose  up,  thick  and  dark,  right  in  front 
of  us.  Our  guide  stopped  and  told  us  to 
look  down.  Among  the  gnarled  gorse-stems 
there  seemed  to  be  a  passage  or  '  run '  made 
by  some  beast,  fox  or  badger,  going  to  and 
from  his  lair. 

*  Down  you  go/  said  our  guide.  *  There's 
lots  of  room  when  you  try.  Imagine  you're 
a  rabbit.' 

We  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  say  No ; 
and,  besides,  by  this  time  we  had  lost  most 
of  our  terror.  I  dropped  on  to  my  knees  at 
once,  and  began  to  squirm  through  the 
passage.  Hugh  followed  me,  and  the 
strange  man  followed  after  Hugh.  It  was 
not  really  difficult,  except  just  at  the  begin- 
ning, where  the  stems  were  close  together. 
When  I  had  wriggled  for  a  couple  of  yards, 
the  bushes  seemed  to  open  out  to  either  side. 
It  was  prickly  work,  but  I  am  sure  that  we 
both  felt  the  romance  of  it,  forgetting  our 
fear  before  we  reached  the  heart  of  the 
clump. 

In  the  heart  of  the  clump  the  gorse- 
bushes  had  been  cut  away,  and  piled  up  in  a 


HUT    IN   THE   GORSE-BUSHES     41 

sort  of  wall  about  a  small  central  square 
some  five  or  six  yards  across.  In  the 
middle  of  the  square  some  one  had  dug  a 
shallow  hollow,  filling  rather  more  than  half 
of  the  open  space.  The  hollow  was  about 
eighteen  inches  deep,  and  roughly  paved 
with  shingle  from  the  beach,  well  stamped 
down  into  the  clay.  It  had  then  been  neatly 
wattled  over  into  a  sort  of  trim  hut,  like  the 
huts  the  salmon-fishers  used  to  build  near 
Kingsbridge.  The  wattling  was  made 
fairly  waterproof  by  masses  of  gorse  and 
bracken  driven  in  among  the  boughs.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  perfect  hiding-places 
you  could  imagine.  It  could  not  be  seen 
from  any  point,  save  from  high  up  in  one  of 
the  trees  surrounding  the  thicket.  A 
regiment  might  have  beaten  the  wood  pretty 
thoroughly,  and  yet  have  failed  to  find  it. 
The  gorse  was  so  thick  in  all  the  outer  part 
of  the  clump  that  dogs  would  leave  its  depths 
unsearched.  Yet,  lying  there  in  the  shelter 
one  could  hear  the  splashing  babble  of  the 
brook  only  fifty  yards  away,  and  the  singing 
of  a  girl  at  the  mill  a  little  further  up  the 
stream. 

The  man  told  us  to  get  inside  the  shelter, 
which  we  did.      Inside  it  was  rather  dark, 


42  JIM   DAVIS 

but  the  man  lit  a  lantern  which  hung  from 
the  roof,  and  kindled  a  fire  in  a  little  fire- 
place. This  fireplace  was  covered  with  turf, 
so  that  the  smoke  should  not  rise  up  in  a 
column.  We  saw  that  the  floor  of  the  hut 
was  heaped  with  bracken,  and  there  were 
tarpaulin  boat-rugs  piled  in  one  corner,  as 
though  for  bedding. 

The  man  picked  up  a  couple  of  rugs  and 
told  us  to  wrap  ourselves  in  them.  '  You'll 
be  cold  if  you  don't  wrap  up,'  he  said. 

As  he  tucked  the  rugs  about  us  I  noticed 
that  the  ring  finger  of  his  left  hand  was 
tattooed  with  three  blue  rings.  I  re- 
membered what  Mrs  Cottier  had  said  about 
the  man  who  had  lighted  her  fire  in  the  barn, 
so  I  stared  at  him  hard,  trying  to  fix  his 
features  on  my  memory.  He  was  a  well- 
made,  active-looking  man,  with  great  arms 
and  shoulders.  He  was  evidently  a  sailor : 
one  could  tell  that  by  the  way  of  his  walk, 
by  the  way  in  which  his  arms  swung,  by  the 
way  in  which  his  head  was  set  upon  his 
body.  What  made  him  remarkable  was  the 
peculiar  dancing  brightness  of  his  eyes ; 
they  gave  his  face,  at  odd  moments,  the  look 
of  a  fiend;  then  that  look  would  go,  and  he 
would  look  like  a  mischievous,  merry  boy ; 


HUT   IN   THE   GORSE-BUSHES     43 

but  more  generally  he  would  look  fierce  and 
resolute.  Then  his  straight  mouth  would  set, 
his  eyes  puckered  in  as  though  he  were 
looking  out  to  windward,  the  scar  upon  his 
cheek  twitched  and  turned  red,  and  he  looked 
most  wrathful  and  terrible. 

'Well,  mister/  the  man  said  to  me,  'would 
you  know  me  again,  in  case  you  saw  me  ? ' 

'Yes,'  I  said,  'I  should  know  you  any- 
where.' 

'Would  you,'  he  said  grinning.  'Well,  I 
was  always  the  beauty  of  the  bunch.'  He 
bit  off  a  piece  of  plug  tobacco  and  began  to 
chew  it.  By-and-by  he  turned  to  Hugh  to 
ask  if  he  chewed  tobacco.  Hugh  answered 
'No,'  laughing. 

'Ah,'  said  the  man,  'don't  you  learn. 
That's  my  advice,  It's  not  easy  to  stop, 
once  you  begin.' 

He  lay  back  in  his  corner,  and  seemed  to 
pass  into  a  sort  of  day-dream.  Presently  he 
looked  up  at  us  again,  and  asked  us  if  we 
knew  why  we  were  there.  We  said  that  we 
did  not. 

'  Well/  he  said,  '  it's  like  this.  Last  night 
you '  (here  he  gave  me  a  nudge  with  his 
foot)  'you  young  gentleman  that  looks  so 
smart,  you  went  for  a  ride  late  at  night, 


44  JIM   DAVIS 

in  the  snow  and  all.  See  what  came  of  it. 
There  was  Others  out  for  a  ride  last  night, 
quite  a  lot  of  'em.  Others  that  the  law 
would  be  glad  to  know  of,  with  men  so 
scarce  for  the  King's  navy.  Well,  to-day 
the  beaks  are  out  trying  to  find  them  other 
ones.  There's  a  power  of  red-coats  come 
here,  besides  the  preventives,  and  there  they 
go,  clackity  clank,  all  swords  and  horses, 
asking  at  every  house/ 

'  What  do  they  ask  '  said  Hugh. 

'They  ask  a  lot  of  things,'  said  the  man. 
1 "  Where  was  you  last  night  ? '  That's  one 
question.  "  What  time  did  you  come  in  last 
night?*'  That's  another,  "  Let's  have  a 
look  at  your  horse  ;  he  looks  as  though  he'd 
bin  out  in  the  snow  last  night."  Lots  of 
things  they  ask,  and  if  they  got  a  hold  of 
you,  young  master,  why,  you  might  have 
noticed  things  last  night,  and  perhaps  they 
might  pump  what  you  noticed  out  of  you. 
So  some  one  thinks  you  had  best  be  out  of 
the  road  when  they  come/ 

'  Who  is  someone  ? '  I  asked. 

*  Just  some  one/  he  answered.  '  Some 
one  who  gets  more  money  than  I  get/  His 
mouth  drew  into  a  hard  and  cruel  line ;  he 
lapsed  into  his  day-dream,  still  chewing  his 


HUT    IN  THE   GORSE-BUSHES     45 

plug  of  tobacco.  'Some  one,'  he  added, 
'  who  don't  like  questions,  and  don't  like  to 
be  talked  about  too  much/ 

He  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two,  while 
Hugh  and  I  looked  at  each  other. 

'Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  keep  you  long,' 
said  the  man.  '  Them  redcoats'll  have  done 
asking  questions  about  here  before  your 
dinner  time.  Then  they'll  ride  on,  and  a 
good  riddance.  Your  lady  will  know  how  to 
answer  them  all  right.  But  till  they're  gone, 
why,  here  you'll  stay.  So  let's  be  comp'ny. 
What's  your  name,  young  master?'  He 
gave  Hugh  a  dig  in  the  ribs  with  his  boot. 

'  Hugh,'  he  answered. 

1  Hugh,'  said  the  man  :  '  Hugh  !  You 
won't  never  come  to  much,  you  won't. 
What's  your  name  ? '  He  nudged  me  in  the 
same  way. 

'Jim,'  I  said. 

'  Ah !  Jim,  Jim/  he  repeated.  '  I've  known 
a  many  Jims.  Some  were  good  in  their 
way,  too.'  He  seemed  to  shrink  into  himself 
suddenly — I  can't  explain  it — but  he  seemed 
to  shrink,  like  a  cat  crouched  to  spring,  and 
his  eyes  burned  and  danced  ;  they  seemed  to 
look  right  into  me,  horribly  gleaming,  till  the 
whole  man  became,  as  it  were,  just  two 


46  JIM   DAVIS 

bright    spots    of    eyes — one    saw     nothing 
else. 

'  Ah/  he  said,  after  a  long,  cruel  glare  at 
me,  'this  is  the  first  time  Jim  and  I  ever 
met.  The  first  time.  We  shall  be  great 
friends,  we  shall.  We  shall  be  better 
acquainted,  you  and  I.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
I  didn't  make  a  man  of  you,  one  time  or 
another.  Give  me  your  hand,  Jim/ 

I  gave  him  my  hand ;  he  looked  at  it 
under  the  lantern  ;  he  traced  one  or  two  of 
the  lines  with  his  blackened  finger-nails, 
muttering  some  words  in  a  strange  language, 
which  somehow  made  my  flesh  creep.  He 
repeated  the  words  :  '  Orel.  Orel.  Adartha 
Cay.'  Then  he  glanced  at  the  other  hand, 
still  muttering,  and  made  a  sort  of  mark  with 
his  fingers  on  my  forehead.  Hugh  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  seemed  to  trace  a  kind  of 
zigzag  on  my  left  temple.  All  the  time  he 
was  muttering  he  seemed  to  be  half-con- 
scious, almost  in  a  trance,  or  as  if  he  were 
mad  :  he  frightened  us  dreadfully.  After  he 
had  made  the  mark  upon  my  brow  he  came 
to  himself  again. 

'They  will  see  it,5  he  muttered.  '  It'll  be 
bright  enough.  The  mark.  It'll  shine. 
They'll  know  when  they  see  it.  It  is  very 


HUT   IN   THE   GORSE-BUSHES     47 

good.  A  very  good  sign  :  it  burns  in  the 
dark.  They'll  know  it  over  there  in  the 
night/  Then  he  went  on  mumbling  to 
himself,  but  so  brokenly  that  we  could  catch 
only  a  few  words  here  and  there — '  black  and 
red,  knowledge  and  beauty  ;  red  and  black, 
pleasure  and  strength.  What  do  the  cards 
say  ?' 

He  opened  his  thick  sea-coat,  and  took 
out  a  little  packet  of  cards  from  an  oil-skin 
case.  He  dealt  them  out,  first  of  all,  in  a 
circle  containing  two  smaller  circles  ;  then  in 
a  curious  sort  of  five-pointed  star ;  lastly,  in 
a  square  with  a  circle  cutting  off  the  corners. 
*  Queer,  queer,'  he  said,  grinning,  as  he 
swept  the  cards  up  and  returned  them  to  his 
pocket.  '  You  and  I  will  know  a  power  of 
queer  times  together,  Jim.1 

He  brightened  up  after  that,  as  though 
something  had  pleased  him  very  much.  He 
looked  very  nice  when  he  looked  pleased,  in 
spite  of  his  eyes  and  in  spite  of  the  gipsy 
darkness  of  his  skin.  '  Here/  he  said,  'let's 
be  company.  D'ye  know  any  knots,  you 
two?' 

No  ;  neither  of  us  knew  any  knots  except 
the  ordinary  overhand  and  granny  knots. 

'  Well,  I'll  show  you/  he  said.     '  It'll  come 


48  JIM   DAVIS 

in  useful  some  day.  Always  learn  what  you 
can,  that's  what  I  say,  because  it'll  come  in 
useful.  That's  what  the  Irishman  said. 
Always  learn  what  you  can.  You  never 
know  ;  that's  the  beauty  of  it.1 

He  searched  in  his  pockets  till  he  found 
a  small  hank  of  spunyarn,  from  which  he  cut 
a  piece  about  a  yard  long.  *  See  here/  he 
said.  *  Now,  I'll  teach  you.  It's  quite  easy, 
if  you  only  pay  attention.  Now,  how  would 
you  tie  a  knot  if  you  was  doing  up  a  parcel  ?  * 

We  both  tried,  and  both  made  granny 
knots,  with  the  ends  sticking  out  at  right 
angles  to  the  rest  of  the  yarn. 

1  Wrong,'  he  said.  'Those  are  grannies. 
They  would  jam  so  that  you'd  never  untie 
'em,  besides  being  ugly.  There's  wrong  ways 
even  in  doing  up  a  string.  See  here.'  He 
rapidly  twisted  the  ends  together  into  a  reef- 
knot.  '  There's  strength  and  beauty  to- 
gether,' he  said.  '  Look  how  neat  it  is,  the 
ends  tidy  along  the  standing  part,  all  so  neat 
as  pie.  Besides,  it'd  never  jam.  Watch  how 
I  do  it,  and  then  try  it  for  yourself.' 

Very  soon  we  had  both  mastered  the  reef- 
knot,  and  had  tried  our  hand  at  others — 
the  bow-line,  the  figure  of  eight,  the  Carrick 
bend,  and  the  old  swab-hitch.  He  was 


HUT   IN   THE    GORSE-BUSHES     49 

very  patient  with  us.  He  told  us  exactly 
how  each  knot  would  be  used  at  sea,  and 
when,  and  why,  and  what  the  officers 
would  say,  and  how  things  would  look 
on  deck  while  they  were  in  the  doing. 
The  time  passed  pleasantly  and  quickly  ;  we 
felt  like  jolly  robbers  in  a  cave.  It  was 
like  being  the  hero  of  a  story-book  to  sit 
there  with  that  rough  man  waiting  till  the 
troops  had  gone.  It  was  not  very  cold  with 
the  fire  and  the  boat-rugs.  We  were  heartily 
sorry  when  the  man  rose  to  his  feet,  with 
the  remark  that  he  must  see  if  the  coast 
were  clear.  Before  he  left  the  hut  he 
glared  down  at  us.  '  Look  here/  he 
said,  '  don't  you  try  to  go  till  I  give  the 
Word.  But  there,  we're  friends ;  no  need 
to  speak  rough  to  friends.  I'll  be  back  in 
a  minute.' 

The  strange  man  passed  out  of  the  hut 
and  along  the  rabbit-run  to  the  edge  of  the 
gorse.  We  heard  his  feet  crunch  upon  the 
snow  beyond,  rustling  the  leaves  underneath 
it ;  and  then  it  was  very,  very  quiet  again, 
though  once,  in  the  stillness,  we  heard  a 
cock  pheasant  calling.  Another  pheasant 
answered  him  from  somewhere  above  at  the 
upper  part  of  the  wood,  and  it  occurred  to 
D 


50  JIM   DAVIS 

both  of  us  that  the  pheasants  were  the  night- 
riders,  making  their  private  signals. 

*  We've  had    a  famous  adventure  to  te- 
Mother/  said  Hugh. 

*  Yes,'  I  said  ;  '  but  we  had  better  be  careful 
not  to  tell  anybody  else.       I   wonder  what 
they  do  here   in  this  hut ;    I  suppose  they 
hide  their  things  here  till   it's  safe  to  take 
them  away.' 

*  Where    do    they    take    them  ? '     asked 
Hugh. 

'Away  into  Dartmoor,'  I  said.  'And 
there  there  are  wonderful  places,  so  old 
Evans  the  postboy  told  me.' 

4  What  sort  of  places  ? '  asked  Hugh. 

'  Oh  caves  covered  over  with  gorse  and 
fern,  and  old  copper  and  tin  mines,  which 
were  worked  by  the  ancient  Britons.  They 
go  under  the  ground  for  miles,  so  old  Evans 
told  me,  with  passages,  and  steps  up  and 
down,  and  great  big  rooms  cut  in  the  rock. 
And  then  there  are  bogs  where  you  can  sink 
things  till  it's  quite  safe  to  take  them  up. 
The  bog- water  keeps  them  quite  sound ; 
it  doesn't  rot  them  like  ordinary  water. 
Sometimes  men  fall  into  the  bogs,  and  the 
marsh-mud  closes  over  them.  That's  the 
sort  of  place  Dartmoor  is.' 


HUT   IN  THE   GORSE-BUSHES     51 

Hugh  was  very  much  interested  in  all 
this,  but  he  was  a  quiet  boy,  not  fond  of 
italking.  'Yes/  he  said;  'but  where  do  the 
things  go  afterwards — who  takes  them  ? ' 
•  'Nobody  knows,  so  old  Evans  said,'  I 
answered  ;  '  but  they  go,  they  get  taken. 
People  come  at  night  and  carry  them  to  the 
towns,  little  by  little,  and  from  the  market 
towns,  they  get  to  the  cities,  no  one  knows 
how.  I  daresay  this  hut  has  been  full  of 
things — valuable  lace  and  silk,  and  all  sorts 
of  wines  and  spirits — waiting  for  some  one 
to  carry  them  into  the  moor/ 

'  Hush  ! '  said  Hugh  ;    '  there's  some  one 
calling — it's  Mother/ 

Outside  the  gorse-clump,  at  some  little 
distance  from  us,  we  heard  Mrs  Cottier  and 
"my  aunt  calling  'Hugh!'  and  'Jim!'  re- 
peatedly. We  lay  very  still  wondering  what 
they  would  think,  and  hoping  that  they  would 
make  no  search  for  us.  They  could  have 
tracked  us  in  the  snow  quite  easily,  but  we 
knew  very  well  they  would  never  think  of 
it,  for  they  were  both  short-sighted  and 
ignorant  of  what  the  Red  Indians  do  when 
they  go  tracking.  To  our  surprise  their 
voices  came  nearer  and  nearer,  till  they  were 
at  the  edge  of  the  clump,  but  on  the  side 


52  JIM   DAVIS 

opposite  to  that  in  which  the  rabbit-run 
opened.  I  whispered  to  Hugh  to  be  quiet 
as  they  stopped  to  call  us.  They  lingered 
for  several  minutes,  calling  every  now  and 
then,  and  talking  to  each  other  in  between 
whiles.  We  could  hear  every  word  of  their 
conversation. 

1  It's  very  curious,'  said  my  aunt.  '  Where  - 
ever  can  they  have  got  to  ?  How  provoking 
boys  are ! ' 

'  It  doesn't  really  matter,'  said  Minis  ;  '  the 
officer  has  gone,  and  the  boy  would  only 
have  been  scared  by  all  his  questions.  He 
might  have  frightened  the  boy  out  of  his 
wits.  I  wonder  where  the  young  monkeys 
have  got  to.  They  were  going  to  build 
snow-huts,  like  the  Indians.  Perhaps  they're 
hiding  in  one  now/ 

We  were,  had  she  only  knowrn  it ;  Hugh 
and  I  grinned  at  each  other.  Suddenly  my 
aunt  spoke  again  with  a  curious  inflection  in 
her  voice. 

'  How  funny,'  she  exclaimed. 

'What  is  it  ? '  asked  Mrs  Cottier. 

1  I'm  almost  sure  I  smell  something  burning/ 
said  my  aunt.  '  I'm  sure  I  do.  Don't  you  ? ' 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  seconds  while 
the  two  ladies  sniffed  the  air. 


HUT   IN  THE    GORSE-BUSHES     53 

'Yes/  said  Mrs  Cottier,  ' there  is  some- 
thing burning.  It  seems  to  come  from  that 
gorse  there/ 

1  Funny,'  said  my  aunt.  4 1  suppose  some 
one  has  lighted  a  fire  up  in  the  wood  and 
the  smoke  is  blowing  down  on  us.  Well, 
we'll  go  in  to  dinner ;  it's  no  good  staying 
here  catching  our  death  looking  for  two  mad 
things.  I  suppose  you  didn't  hear  how  Mrs 
Burns  is,  yesterday  ? ' 

The  two  ladies  passed  away  from  the 
clump  towards  the  orchard,  talking  of  the 
affairs  of  the  neighbourhood.  A  few  minutes 
after  they  had  gone,  a  cock  pheasant  called 
softly  a  few  yards  from  us,  then  the  gorse- 
stems  shook,  and  our  friend  appeared  at  the 
hut  door. 

*  They're  gone,  all  right/  he  said  ;  '  Swords, 
and  red  coats  and  pipeclay — they're  gone. 
And  a  good  riddance  too !  I  should  have 
been  back  before,  only  your  ladies  were 
talking,  looking  for  you,  so  I  had  to  wait  till 
they  were  gone.  I  expect  you'll  want  your 
dinner,  sitting  here  so  long  ?  Well,  cut  and 
get  it/ 

He  slung  the  boat  rugs  into  a  corner, 
blew  out  the  lantern,  and  dropped  a  handful 
of  snow  on  to  the  fire,  '  Cut/  he  continued. 


54  JIM   DAVIS 

'  You  can  go.  Get  out  of  this.  Run  and 
get  your  dinners.'  We  went  with  him  out 
of  the  hut  into  the  square.  'See  here,'  he 
continued,  '  don't  you  go  coming  here.  You 
don't  know  of  this  place — see  ?  Don't  you 
show  your  little  tracks  in  this  part  of  the 
wood ;  this  is  a  private  house,  this  is — 
trespassers  will  be  prosecuted.  Now  run 
along  and  thank  'ee  for  your  company/ 

As  Hugh  began  to  squirm  along  the 
passage,  I  turned  and  shook  hands  with  the 
man.  I  thought  it  would  be  the  polite  thing 
to  do  to  say  good-bye  properly.  '  Will  you 
tell  me  your  name  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Haven't  got  a  name/  he  answered  gruffly. 
'  None  of  your  business  if  I  had/  He  saw 
that  I  was  hurt  by  his  rudeness,  for  his  face 
changed:  'I'll  tell  you/  he  added  quickly; 
'  but  don't  you  say  it  about  here.  Gorsuch 
is  my  name — Marah  Gorsuch/ 

'  Marah/  I  said.     '  What  a  funny  name  ! ' 

'  Is  it  ? '  he  said  grimly  :  '  It  means  bitter 
— bitter  water,  and  I'm  bitter  on  the  tongue, 
as  you  may  find.  Now  cut/ 

'One  thing  more,  Mr  Gorsuch/  I  said,  'be 
careful  of  your  fires.  They  can  smell  them 
outside  when  the  wind  blows  down  from  the 
wood/ 


HUT   IN   THE   GORSE-BUSHES     55 

'  Fires  ! '  he  exclaimed  ;  '  I  don't  light 
fires  here  except  I've  little  bleating  school- 
boys to  tea.  Cut  and  get  your  porridge. 
Here/  he  called,  as  I  went  down  on  my 
hands  and  knees,  '  here's  a  keepsake  for 
you/ 

He  tossed  me  a  little  ornament  of  twisted 
silver  wire  woven  into  the  form  of  a  double 
diamond  knot,  probably  by  the  man  himself. 

'  Thank  you,  Mr  Gorsuch,'  I  said. 

'  Oh,  don't  thank  me,'  he  answered  rudely  : 
I'm  tired  of  being  thanked.  Now  cut/ 

I  wriggled  through  the  clump  after  Hugh, 
then  we  ran  home  together  through  the 
wood,  just  as  the  dinner-bell  was  ringing  for 
the  second  time. 

Mrs  Cottier  asked  us  if  we  had  not  heard 
her  calling. 

'  Yes,  Minis,'  I  said,  '  we  did  hear  ;  but  we 
were  hidden  in  a  secret  house  ;  we  wondered 
if  you  would  find  us — we  were  close  to  you 
some  of  the  time.' 

My  aunt  said  something  about  *  giving  a 
lot  of  trouble '  and  '  being  very  thoughtless 
for  others ' ;  but  we  had  heard  similar  lectures 
many  times  before  and  did  not  mind  them 
much.  After  dinner  I  took  Mims  aside  and 
told  her  everything  ;  she  laughed  a  little, 


56  JIM   DAVIS 

though  I  could  see  that  she  was  uneasy  about 
Hugh. 

'  I  wouldn't  mention  it  to  any  one/  she 
said.  '  It  would  be  safer  not.  But  oh,  Jim, 
here  we  are,  all  three  of  us,  in  league  with 
the  law-breakers.  The  soldiers  were  here 
this  morning  asking  all  sorts  of  questions, 
and  they'd  two  men  prisoners  with  them, 
taken  at  Tor  Cross  on  suspicion  ;  they're  to 
be  sent  to  Exeter  till  the  Assizes.  I'm  afraid 
it  will  go  hard  with  them  ;  I  dare  say  they'll 
be  sent  abroad,  poor  fellows.  Every  house 
is  being  searched  for  last  night's  work  : 
it  seems  they  surprised  the  coastguards  at 
the  Cross  and  tied  them  up  in  their  barracks, 
before  they  landed  their  goods,  and  now  the 
whole  country  is  being  searched  by  troops. 
And  here  are  we  three  innocents/  she  went 
on,  smiling,  drawing  us  both  to  her,  '  all 
conspiring  against  the  King's  peace — I 
expect  we  shall  all  be  transported.  Well, 
I  shall  be  transported,  but  you'd  have  to 
serve  in  the  Navy.  So  now  we  won't  talk 
about  it  any  more  ;  I've  had  enough 
smuggling  for  one  day.  Let's  go  out  and 
build  a  real  snow  house,  and  then  Jim  will 
be  a  Red  Indian  and  we  will  have  a  fight 
with  bows  and  arrows/ 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  LAST  VOYAGE  OF  '  THE  SNAIL  ' 

IT  was  during  the  wintry  days  that  Mrs 
Cottier  decided  to  remove  us  from  the  school 
at  Newton  Abbot.  She  had  arranged  with 
the.  Rector  at  Strete  for  us  to  have  lessons 
at  the  Rectory  every  morning  with  young 
Ned  Evans,  the  Rector's  son ;  so  when  the 
winter  holidays  ended  we  were  spared  the 
long,  cold  drive  and  that  awful  *  going  back ' 
to  the  school  we  hated  so. 

Winter  drew  to  an  end  and  the  snow 
melted.  March  came  in  like  a  lion,  bringing 
so  much  rain  that  the  brook  was  flooded. 
We  saw  no  more  of  the  night-riders  after 
that  day  in  the  snow,  but  we  noticed  little 
things  now  and  then  among  the  country 
people  which  made  us  sure  that  they  were 
not  far  off.  Once,  when  we  were  driving 
home  in '  the  evening  after  a  day  at  Dart- 
mouth, owls  called  along  the  road  from  just 

57 


58  JIM    DAVIS 

behind  the  hedge,  whenever  the  road  curved. 
Hugh  and  I  remembered  the  pheasants  that 
day  in  the  wood,  and  we  nudged  each  other 
in  the  darkness,  wondering  whether  Mr 
Gorsuch  was  one  of  the  owls.  After  that 
night  we  used  to  practise  the  call  of  the  owls 
and  the  pheasants,  but  we  were  only  clever 
at  the  owl's  cry  :  the  pheasant's  call  really 
need's  a  man's  voice,  it  is  too  deep  a  note 
for  any  boy  to  imitate  well ;  but  we  could 
cry  like  the  owls  after  some  little  practice, 
and  we  were  very  vain  when  we  made  an 
owl  in  the  wood  reply  to  us.  Once,  at  the 
end  of  February,  we  gave  the  owl's  cry 
outside  the  '  Adventure  Inn/  where  the  road 
dips  from  Strete  to  the  sands,  and  a  man 
ran  out  to  the  door  and  looked  up  and  down, 
and  whistled  a  strange  little  tune,  or  scrap 
of  a  tune,  evidently  expecting  an  answer  ; 
but  that  frightened  us  ;  we  made  him  no 
answer,  and  presently  he  went  in  muttering. 
He  was  puzzled,  no  doubt,  for  he  came  out 
again  a  minute  later  and  again  whistled  his 
tune,  though  very  quietly.  We  learned  the 
scrap  of  tune  and  practised  it  together  when- 
ever we  were  sure  that  no  one  was  near  us. 

As  for  the  two  men  taken  by  the  troops, 
they  were  let  off.     The  innkeeper  at  South 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  '  THE  SNAIL '    59 

Poole  swore  that  both  men  had  been  in  his 
inn  all  the  night  of  the  storm  playing  the 
'ring-quoits'  game  with  the  other  guests 
and  as  his  oath  was  supported  by  half-a-dozen 
witnesses,  the  case  for  the  King  fell  through  ; 
the  night-riders  never  scrupled  to  commit 
perjury.  Later  on  I  learned  a  good  deal 
about  how  the  night-riders  managed  things. 

During  that  rainy  March,  while  the  brook 
was  in  flood  all  over  the  valley,  Hugh  and 
I  had  a  splendid  time  sailing  toy  boats,  made 
out  of  boxes  and  pieces  of  plank.  We  had 
one  big  ship  made  out  of  a  long  wooden  box 
which  had  once  held  flowers  along  a  window- 
sill.  We  had  painted  ports  upon  her  sides, 
and  we  had  rigged  her  with  a  single  square 
sail.  With  a  strong  south-westerly  wind 
blowing  up  the  valley,  she  would  sail  for 
nearly  a  mile  whenever  the  floods  were  out, 
and  though  she  often  ran  aground,  we  could 
always  get  her  off,  as  the  water  was  so 
shallow. 

Now,  one  day  (I  suppose  it  was  about  the 
middle  of  the  month)  we  went  to  sail  this 
ship  (we  used  to  call  her  the  Snail]  from  our 
side  of  the  flood,  right  across  the  river- 
course,  to  the  old  slate  quarry  on  the  opposite 
side.  The  distance  was,  perhaps,  three 


60  JIM   DAVIS 

hundred  yards.  We  chose  this  site  because 
in  this  place  there  was  a  sort  of  ridge  cause- 
way leading  to  a  bridge,  so  that  we  could 
follow  our  ship  across  the  flood  without 
getting  our  feet  wet.  In  the  old  days  the 
quarry  carts  had  crossed  the  brook  by  this 
causeway  but  the  quarry  was  long  worked 
out,  and  the  road  and  bridge  were  now  in 
a  bad  state,  but  still  good  enough  for  us, 
and  well  above  water. 

We  launched  the  Snail  from  a  green, 
shelving  bank,  and  shoved  her  off  with  the 
long  sticks  we  carried.  The  wind  caught 
her  sail  and  drove  her  forward  in  fine  style  ; 
she  made  a  great  ripple  as  she  went.  Once 
she  caught  in  a  drowned  bush ;  but  the 
current  swung  her  clear,  and  she  cut  across 
the  course  of  the  brook  like  a  Falmouth 
Packet.  Hugh  and  I  ran  along  the  cause- 
way, and  over  the  bridge,  to  catch  her  on 
the  other  side.  We  had  our  eyes  on  her 
as  we  ran,  for  we  feared  that  she  might 
catch,  or  capsize  ;  and  we  were  so  intent 
upon  our  ship  that  we  noticed  nothing  else. 
Now  when  we  came  to  the  end  of  the  cause- 
way, and  turned  to  the  right,  along  the  shale 
and  rubble  tipped  there  from  the  quarry,  we 
saw  a  man  coming  down  the  slope  to  the 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  < THE  SNAIL'     61 

water,  evidently  bent  on  catching  the  Snail 
when  she  arrived.  We  could  not  see  his 
face  very  clearly,  for  he  wore  a  grey  slouch- 
hat,  and  the  brambles  were  so  high  just 
there  that  sometimes  they  hid  him  from  us. 
He  seemed,  somehow,  a  familiar  figure  ;  and 
the  thought  flashed  through  me  that  it  might 
be  Mr  Gorsuch, 

'  Come  on,  Hugh,'  I  cried,  *  or  she'll  capsize 
on  the  shale.  The  water's  very  shallow,  so 
close  up  to  this  side/ 

We  began  to  run  as  well  as  we  could,  over 
the  broken  stones. 

'It's  no  good/  said  Hugh.  'She'll  be 
there  before  we  are/ 

We  broke  through  a  brake  of  brambles  to 
a  green  space  sloping  to  the  flood.  There 
was  the  Snail,  drawn  up,  high  and  dry,  on 
to  the  grass,  and  there  was  the  man,  sitting 
by  her  on  a  stone,  solemnly  cutting  up 
enough  tobacco  for  a  pipe. 

'Good  morning,  Mr  Gorsuch/  I  said. 

'Why,  it's  young  sweethearter/  he 
answered.  'Why  haven't  you  got  your 
nurses  with  you  ? '  He  filled  his  pipe  and 
lighted  it,  watching  us  with  a  sort  of  quizzical 
interest,  but  making  no  attempt  to  shake 
hands.  He  made  me  feel  that  he  was  glad 


62  JIM   DAVIS 

to  see  us ;  but  that  nothing  would  make  him 
show  it.  '  What  d'ye  call  this  thing  ?  '  he 
asked,  pointing  with  his  toe  to  the  Snail. 

1  That's  our  ship,'  said  Hugh. 

'  Is  it  ? '  he  asked  contemptuously.  *  I 
thought  it  was  your  mother's  pudding-box, 
with  some  of  baby's  bed-clothes  on  it. 
That's  what  I  thought  it  was/ 

He  seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  seeing 
Hugh's  face  fall.  Hugh  always  took  a  rough 
word  to  heart,  and  he  could  never  bear  to 
hear  his  mother  mentioned  by  a  stranger. 

*  It's  a  good  enough  ship  for  us,'  he 
answered  hotly. 

'How  d'ye  know  it  is?'  said  the  man. 
4  You  know  nothing  at  all  about  it.  What 
do  you  know  of  ships,  or  what's  good  for  you  ? 
Hey  ?  You  don't  know  nothing  of  the  kind/ 

This  rather  silenced  Hugh  ;  we  were  both 
a  little  abashed,  and  so  we  stood  sheepishly 
for  a  moment  looking  on  the  ground. 

At  last  I  took  Hugh  by  the  arm.  *  Let's 
take  her  somewhere  else,'  I  said  softly.  I 
bent  down  and  picked  up  the  ship  and  turned 
to  go. 

The  man  watched  us  with  a  sort  of  amused 
contempt.  '  Where  are  you  going  now  ? ' 
he  asked. 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  '  THE  SNAIL '     63 

'  Down  the  stream,'  I  called  back. 

'  Drop  it/  he  said.     '  Come  back  here/ 

I  called  softly  to  Hugh  to  run.  '  Shan't ! ' 
I  cried  as  we  started  off  together,  at  our  best 
speed. 

'  Won't  you?'  he  called.  '  Then  I'll 
make  you.'  He  was  after  us  in  a  brace  of 
shakes,  and  had  us  both  by  the  collar  in 
less  than  a  dozen  yards.  'What  little 
tempers  we  have  got,'  he  said  grinning. 
'  Regular  little  spitfires,  both  of  you.  Now 
back  you  come  till  we  have  had  a  talk/ 

I  noticed  then  that  he  was  much  better 
dressed  than  formerly.  His  clothes  were 
of  the  very  finest  sea-cloth,  and  well  cut. 
The  buttons  on  his  scarlet  waistcoat,  were 
new  George  guineas  ;  and  the  buttons  on 
his  coat  were  of  silver,  very  beautifully 
chased.  His  shoes  had  big  silver  buckles 
on  them,  and  there  was  a  silver  buckle  to 
the  flap  of  his  grey  slouch  hat.  The  tattoo 
marks  on  his  left  hand  were  covered  over 
by  broad  silver  rings,  of  the  sort  the  Spanish 
onion-boys  used  to  sell  in  Dartmouth,  after 
the  end  of  the  war.  He  looked  extremely 
handsome  in  his  fine  clothes.  I  wondered 
how  I  could  ever  have  been  afraid  of  him. 

'Yes/  he  said  with  a  grin,  when  he  saw 


64  JIM   DAVIS 

me  eyeing  him,  'my  ship  came  home  all 
right.  I  was  able  to  refit  for  a  full  due. 
So  now  we'll  see  what  gifts  the  Queen  sent/ 

We  wondered  what  he  meant  by  this 
sentence ;  but  we  were  not  kept  long  in 
doubt.  He  led  us  through  the  briars  to  the 
ruins  of  the  shed  where  the  quarry  overseer 
had  formerly  had  his  office. 

'Come  in  here,'  he  said,  shoving  us  in 
front  of  him,  'and  see  what  the  Queen  '11 
give  you.  Shut  your  eyes.  That's  the 
style.  Now  open/ 

When  we  opened  our  eyes  we  could  hardly 
keep  from  shouting  with  pleasure.  There, 
on  the  ground,  kept  upright  by  a  couple  of 
bricks  was  a  three-foot  model  of  a  revenue 
cutter,  under  all  her  sail  except  the  big 
square  foresail,  which  was  neatly  folded 
upon  her  yard.  She  was  perfect  aloft,  even 
to  her  pennant ;  and  on  deck  she  was  perfect 
too,  with  beautiful  little  model  guns,  all 
brass,  on  their  carriages,  pointing  through 
the  port  holes. 

'  Oh ! '  we  exclaimed.  '  Oh !  Is  she 
really  for  us,  for  our  very  own  ? ' 

'Why,  yes,'  he  said.  'At  least  she's  for 
you,  Mr  What's-your-name.  Jim,  I  think 
you  call  yourself.  Yes,  Jim.  Well,  she's 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  'THE  SNAIL'    65 

for  you,  Jim.  I  got  something  else  the 
Queen  sent  for  Mr  Preacher  feller.'  He 
bent  in  one  corner  of  the  ruin,  and  pulled 
out  what  seemed  to  be  a  stout  but  broken 
box.  'This  is  for  you,  Mr.  Preacher  feller/ 
he  said  to  Hugh. 

We  saw  that  it  was  a  model  of  a  port  of 
a  ship's  deck  and  side.  The  side  was  cut 
for  a  gun-port,  which  opened  and  shut  by 
means  of  laniards ;  and,  pointing  through 
the  opened  port  was  a  model  brass  nine- 
pounder  on  its  carriage,  with  all  its  roping 
correctly  rigged,  and  its  sponges  and  rammers 
hooked  up  above  it  ready  for  use.  It  was 
a  beautiful  piece  of  work  (indeed,  both 
models  were)  for  the  gun  was  quite  eighteen 
inches  long.  'There  you  are/  said  Marah 
Gorsuch.  '  That  lot's  for  you,  Mr  Preacher- 
feller.  Them  things  is  what  the  Queen 
sent/ 

We  were  so  much  delighted  by  these 
beautiful  presents  that  it  was  some  minutes 
before  we  could  find  words  with  which  to 
thank  him.  We  could  not  believe  that  such 
things  were  really  for  us.  He  was  much 
pleased  to  find  that  his  gifts  gave  so  much 
pleasure  ;  he  kept  up  a  continual  grin  while 
we  examined  the  toys  inch  by  inch. 
E" 


66  JIM    DAVIS 

'  Like  'em,  hey  ? '  he  said. 

'Yes;  I  should  just  think  we  do,'  we 
answered.  We  shook  him  by  the  hand, 
almost  unable  to  speak  from  pleasure. 

'And  now  let's  come  down  and  sail  her/ 
I  said. 

'  Hold  on  there/  said  Marah  Gorsuch. 
'  Don't  be  too  quick.  You  ain't  going  to 
sail  that  cutter  till  you  know  how.  YouVe 
got  a  lot  to  learn  first,  so  that  must  wait. 
It's  to  be  Master  Preacher-feller's  turn  this 
morning.  Yours  '11  come  by-and-by.  What 
you  got  to  do,  first  go  off,  is  to  sink  that  old 
hulk  you  were  playing  with.  We'll  sink  her 
at  anchor  with  Preacher-feller's  cannon.' 

He  told  Hugh  to  pick  up  his  toy,  and 
to  come  along  down  to  the  water's  edge. 
When  he  came  near  to  the  water,  Marah 
took  the  old  Snail  and  tied  a  piece  of  string 
to  her  bows  by  way  of  a  cable.  Then  he 
thrust  her  well  out  into  the  flood,  tied  a 
piece  of  shale  (as  an  anchor)  to  the  other 
end  of  the  string,  and  flung  it  out  ahead  of 
her,  so  that  she  rode  at  anchor  trimly  a  few 
yards  from  the  bank.  '  Now,'  he  said,  '  we'll 
exercise  great  guns.  Here'  (he  produced  a 
powder  horn)  '  is  the  magazine  ;  here  '  (he 
produced  a  bag  of  bullets)  *  is  the  shot-locker. 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  '  THE  SNAIL '    67 

Here's  a  bag  of  wads.  Now,  my  sons, 
down  to  business.  Cast  loose  your  housings, 
take  out  tompions.  Now  bear  a  hand, 
my  lads ;  we'll  give  your  old  galleon  a 
broadside.' 

We  watched  him  as  he  prepared  the  gun 
for  firing,  eagerly  lending  a  hand  whenever 
we  saw  what  he  wanted.  'First  of  all, 'he 
said,  '  you  must  sponge  your  gun.  There's 
the  sponge.  Shove  it  down  the  muzzle  and 
give  it  a  screw  round.  There !  Now  tap 
your  sponge  against  the  muzzle  to  knock  the 
dust  off.  There !  Now  the  powder.'  He 
took  his  powder-horn  and  filled  a  little  funnel 
(like  the  funnels  once  used  by  chemists  for 
filling  bottles  of  cough-mixture)  with  the 
powder.  This  he  poured  down  the  muzzle 
of  the  gun.  '  Now  a  wad,'  he  said,  taking 
up  a  screw  of  twisted  paper.  '  Ram  it  home 
on  to  the  powder  with  the  rammer.  That's 
the  way.  Now  for  the  shot.  We'll  put  in 
a  dozen  bullets,  and  then  top  with  a  couple 
more  wads.  There !  Now  she's  loaded. 
Those  bullets  will  go  for  fifty  yards  with 
that  much  powder  ahind  'em.  Now,  all  we 
have  to  do  is  to  prime  her.'  He  filled  the 
touch -hole  with  powder,  and  poured  a  few 
grains  along  the  base  or  breach  of  the  gun. 


68  JIM   DAVIS 

'  There  ! '  he  said.  4  Only  one  thing  more, 
That  is  aim.  Here,  Mr  Preacher-feller, 
Hugh,  whatever  your  name  is.  You're 
captain  of  the  gun ;  you  must  aim  her. 
Take  a  squint  along  the  gun  till  you  get 
the  notch  on  the  muzzle  against  the  target ; 
then  raise  your  gun's  breech  till  the  notch  is 
a  little  below  your  target.  Those  wooden 
quoins  under  the  gun  will  keep  it  raised  if 
you  pull  them  out  a  little.' 

Hugh  lay  down  flat  on  the  grass  and  moved 
the  gun  carefully  till  he  was  sure  the  aim 
was  correct.  '  Let's  have  a  match/  he  said, 
'  to  see  which  is  the  best  shot.' 

4  All  right,'  said  Marah.  '  We  will.  You 
have  first  shot.  Are  you  ready?  All 
ready?  Very  well  then.  Here's  the  lin- 
stock that  you're  to  fire  with.'  He  took  up 
a  long  stick  which  had  a  slow  match  twisted 
round  it.  He  lit  the  slow  match  by  a  pocket 
flint  and  steel  after  moving  his  powder  away 
from  him.  '  Now  then,' he  cried,  'are  you 
ready  ?  Stand  clear  of  the  breech.  Star- 
board battery.  Fire ! ' 

Hugh  dropped  the  lighted  match  on  to 
the  priming.  The  gun  banged  loudly, 
leaped  back  and  up,  and  fell  over  on  one  side 
in  spite  of  its  roping  as  the  smoke  spurted. 


LAST  VOYAGE  OF  '  THE  SNAIL '    69 

At  the  same  instant  there  was  a  lashing 
noise,  like  rain,  upon  the  water  as  the  bullets 
skimmed  along  upon  the  surface.  One  white 
splinter  flew  from  the  Snaifs  stern  where  a 
single  bullet  struck  ;  the  rest  flew  wide  astern 
of  her. 

'  Let  your  piece  cool  a  moment/  said 
Marah,  '  then  we  will  sponge  and  load  again, 
and  then  Jim  '11  try.  You  wrere  too  much  to 
the  right,  Mr  Hugh.  Your  shots  fell  astern.' 

After  a  minute  or  two  we  cleaned  the  gun 
thoroughly  and  reloaded. 

'Now,'  said  Marah,  'remember  one  thing. 
If  you  was  in  a  ship,  fighting  that  other 
ship,  you  wouldn't  want  just  to  blaze  away 
at  her  broadside.  No.  You'd  want  to  hit 
her  so  as  your  shot  would  rake  all  along 
her  decks  from  the  bow  aft,  or  from  the 
stern  forrard.  You  wait  a  second,  Master 
Jim,  till  the  wind  gives  her  bows  a  skew 
towards  you,  or  till  her  stern  swings  round 
more.  There  she  goes.  Are  you  ready  ? 
N  ow,  as  she  comes  round ;  allow  for  it. 
Fire!' 

Very  hurriedly  I  made  my  aim,  and  still 
more  hurriedly  did  I  give  fire.  Again  came 
the  bang  and  flash  ;  again  the  gun  clattered 
over ;  but,  to  my  joy,  a  smacking  crack 


70  JIM   DAVIS 

showed  that  the  shot  went  home.  The 
shock  made  the  old  Snail  roll.  A  piece  of 
her  bow  was  knocked  off.  Two  or  three 
bullets  ripped  through  her  sail  One  bored 
a  groove  along  her,  and  the  rest  went  over 
her. 

'Good/  said  Marah.  'A  few  more  like 
that  and  she's  all  our  own.  Now  it's  my 
shot.  I'll  try  to  knock  her  rudder  away. 
Wait  till  she  swings.  There  she  comes ! 
There  she  comes !  Over  a  little.  Up  a 
little.  Now.  Fire.'  He  darted  his  lin- 
stock down  upon  the  priming.  The  gun 
roared  arid  upset ;  the  bullets  banged  out 
the  Snaifs  stern,  and  she  filled  slowly,  and 
sank  to  the  level  of  the  water,  her  mast 
standing  erect  out  of  the  flood,  and  her 
whole  fabric  swaying  a  little  as  the  water 
moved  her  up  and  down. 

After  that  we  fired  at  the  mast  till  we 
had  knocked  it  away,  and  then  we  placed 
our  toys  in  the  sheltered  fireplace  of  the 
ruin  and  came  away,  happy  to  the  bone, 
talking  nineteen  to  the  dozen. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    OWL'S    CRY 

FOR  the  next  month  we  passed  all  our  after- 
noons with  Marah.  In  the  mornings  the 
Rector  gave  us  our  lessons  at  Strete  ;  then 
we  walked  home  to  dinner  ;  then  we  played 
with  our  gun  and  cutter,  or  at  the  sailing  of 
our  home-made  boats,  till  about  six,  when 
we  went  home  for  tea.  After  tea  we  pre- 
pared our  lessons  for  the  next  day  and  went 
upstairs  to  bed,  where  we  talked  of  smugglers 
and  pirates  till  we  fell  asleep.  Marah  soon 
taught  us  how  to  sail  the  cutter ;  and,  what 
was  more,  he  taught  us  how  to  rig  her.  For 
an  hour  of  each  fine  afternoon  he  would  give 
us  a  lesson  in  the  quarry  office,  showing  us 
how  to  rig  model  boats,  which  we  made  out 
of  old  boxes  and  packing-cases.  In  the 
sunny  evenings  of  April  we  used  to  sail 
our  fleets,  ship  against  ship,  upon  the  great 
fresh-water  lake  into  which  the  trout-brook 


72  JIM    DAVIS 

passes  on  its  way  to  the  sea.  Sometimes 
we  would  have  a  fleet  of  ships  of  the  line 
anchored  close  to  the  shore,  and  then  we 
would  fire  at  them  with  the  gun  and  with 
one  of  Marah's  pistols  till  we  had  shattered 
them  to  bits  and  sunk  them.  Sometimes 
Marah  would  tell  us  tales  of  the  smugglers 
and  pirates  of  long  ago,  especially  about  a 
pirate  named  Van  Horn,  who  was  burned 
in  his  ship  off  Mugeres  Island,  near 
Campeachy,  more  than  a  hundred  years 
back. 

'  His  ship  was  full  of  gold  and  silver,' 
said  Marah.  '  You  can  see  her  at  a  very 
low  tide  even  now.  I've  seen  her 
myself.  She  is  all  burnt  to  a  black  coal,  a 
great  Spanish  galleon,  with  all  her  guns  in 
her.  I  was  out  fishing  in  the  boat,  and 
a  mate  said,  "  Look  there.  There  she  is!" 
and  I  saw  her  as  plain  as  plain  among  all 
the  weeds  in  the  sea.  The  water's  very 
clear  there,  and  there  she  was,  with  the 
fishes  dubbing  their  noses  on  her.  And 
she's  as  full  of  gold  as  the  Bank  of  England. 
The  seas'll  have  washed  Van  Horn's  bones 
white,  and  the  bones  of  his  crew  too  ;  eaten 
white  by  the  fish  and  washed  white,  lying 
there  in  all  that  gold  under  the  sea,  with  the 


THE   OWL'S   CRY  73 

weeds  growing  over  them.  It  gives  you 
a  turn  to  think  of  it,  don't  it  ?  ' 

'  Why  don't  they  send  down  divers  to  get 
the  gold  ? '  asked  H  ugh. 

'  Why ! '  said  Marah.  '  There's  many  has 
tried  after  all  that  gold.  But  sbme  the 
sharks  took  and  some  the  Spaniards  took, 
and  then  there  was  storms  and  fighting. 
None  ever  got  a  doubloon  from  her.  But 
somebody'll  have  a  go  for  it  again.  I  tried 
once,  long  ago.  That  was  an  unlucky  try, 
though.  Many  poor  men  died  along  of  that 
one.  They  died  on  the  decks/  he  added. 
'  It  was  like  old  Van  Horn  cursing  us.  They 
died  in  my  arms,  some  of  'em.  Seven  and 
twenty  seamen,  and  one  of  them  was  my 
mate,  Charlie ! ' 

I  have  wandered  away  from  my  story, 
I'm  afraid,  remembering  these  scraps  of  the 
past ;  but  it  all  comes  back  to  me  now,  so 
clearly  that  it  seems  to  be  happening  again. 
There  are  Marah  and  Hugh,  with  the  sun 
going  down  behind  the  gorse-bank,  across 
the  Lea ;  and  there  are  the  broken  ships 
floating  slowly  past,  with  the  perch  rising 
at  them  ;  and  there  is  myself,  a  very  young 
cub,  ignorant  of  what  was  about  to  come 
upon  me.  Perhaps,  had  I  known  what  was 


74  JIM   DAVIS 

to  happen  before  the  leaves  of  that  spring 
had  fallen,  I  should  have  played  less  light- 
heartedly,  and  given  more  heed  to  Mr 
Evans,  the  Rector. 

Now,  on  one  day  in  each  week,  generally 
on  Thursdays,  we  had  rather  longer  school 
hours  than  on  the  other  days.  On  these 
days  of  extra  work  Hugh  and  I  had  dinner 
at  the  Rectory  with  Ned  Evans,  our  school- 
mate. After  dinner  we  three  boys  would 
wander  off  together,  generally  down  to 
Blackpool,  where  old  Spanish  coins  (from 
some  forgotten  wreck)  were  sometimes 
found  in  the  sand  after  heavy  weather  had 
altered  the  lie  of  the  beach.  We  never 
found  any  Spanish  coins,  but  we  always 
enjoyed  our  afternoons  there.  The  brook 
which  runs  into  the  sea  there  was  very  good 
for  trout,  in  the  way  that  Marah  showed  us  ; 
but  we  never  caught  any,  for  all  our  pains. 
In  the  summer  we  meant  to  bathe  from  the 
sands,  and  all  through  that  beautiful  spring 
we  talked  of  the  dives  we  would  take  from 
the  spring-board  running  out  into  the  sea. 
Then  we  would  have  great  games  of  ducks 
and  drakes,  with  flat  pebbles  ;  or  games  of 
pebble-dropping,  in  which  our  aim  was  to 


THE   OWL'S   CRY  75 

drop  a  stone  so  that  it  should  make  no 
splash  as  it  entered  the  water.  But  the 
best  game  of  all  was  our  game  of  cliff- 
exploring  among  the  cliffs  on  each  side  of 
the  bay,  and  this  same  game  gave  me  the 
adventure  of  my  life. 

One  lovely  afternoon  towards  the  end  of 
the  May  of  that  year,  when  we  were  grubbing 
among  the  cliff-gorse  as  usual,  wondering  how 
we  could  get  down  the  cliffs  to  rob  the  sea- 
birds'  nests,  we  came  to  a  bare  patch  among 
the  furze  ;  and  there  lay  a  couple  of  coast- 
guards, looking  intently  at  something  a  little 
further  down  the  slope,  and  out  of  sight, 
beyond  the  brow  of  the  cliff.  They  had 
ropes  with  them,  and  a  few  iron  spikes,  and 
one  of  them  had  his  telescope  on  the  grass 
beside  him.  They  looked  up  at  us  angrily 
when  we  broke  through  the  thicket  upon 
them,  and  one  of  them  hissed  at  us  through 
his  teeth :  '  Get  out,  you  boys.  Quick. 
Cut ! '  and  waved  to  us  to  get  away,  which 
we  did,  a  good  deal  puzzled  and  perhaps  a 
little  startled.  We  talked  about  it  on  our 
way  home.  Ned  Evans  said  that  the  men 
were  setting  rabbit  snares,  and  that  he  had 
seen  the  wires.  Hugh  thought  that  they 
might  be  after  sea-birds'  eggs  during  their 


76  JIM   DAVIS 

hours  off  duty.  Both  excuses  seemed 
plausible,  but  for  my  own  part  I  thought 
something  very  different.  The  men,  I  felt, 
were  out  on  some  special  service,  and  on 
the  brink  of  some  discovery.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  when  we  broke  in  upon  them  they 
were  craning  forward  to  the  brow  of  the 
cliff,  intently  listening.  I  even  thought  that 
from  below  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  only  a  few 
feet  away,  there  had  come  a  noise  of  people 
talking.  I  did  not  mention  my  suspicions 
to  Hugh  and  Ned,  because  I  was  riot  sure, 
and  they  both  seemed  so  sure  ;  but  all  the 
way  home  I  kept  thinking  that  I  was  right. 
It  flashed  on  me  that  perhaps  the  night- 
riders  had  a  cave  below  the  cliff-brow,  and 
that  the  coastguards  had  discovered  the 
secret.  It  was  very  wrong  of  me,  but  my 
only  thought  was :  '  Oh,  will  they  catch 
Marah  ?  Will  poor  Marah  be  sent  to 
prison  ? '  and  the  fear  that  our  friend  would 
be  dragged  off  to  gaol  kept  me  silent  as  we 
walked. 

When  we  came  to  the  gate  which  takes 
you  by  a  short  cut  to  the  valley  and  the^hale 
quarry,  I  said  that  I  would  go  horn  thai 
way,  while  the  others  went  by  the  road,  and 
that  we  would  race  each  other,  walking,  to 


THE   OWL'S    CRY  77 

see  who  got  home  first.  They  agreed  to 
this,  and  set  off  together  at  a  great  rate  ;  but 
as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  behind  the 
hedge  I  buckled  my  satchel  to  my  shoulders 
and  started  running  to  warn  Marah.  It  was 
all  downhill  to  the  brook,  and  I  knew  that  I 
should  find  Marah  there,  for  he  had  said  that 
he  was  coming  earlier  than  usual  that  after- 
noon to  finish  off  a  model  boat  which  we 
were  to  sail  after  tea.  I  ran  as  I  had  never 
run  before — I  thought  my  heart  would  thump 
itself  to  pieces  ;  but  at  last  I  got  to  the  valley 
and  saw  Marah  crossing  the  brook  by  the 
causeway.  I  shouted  to  him  then  and  he 
heard  me.  I  had  no  breath  to  call  again,  so 
I  waved  to  him  to  come  and  then  collapsed, 
panting,  for  I  had  run  a  good  mile  across 
country.  He  walked  towards  me  slowly, 
almost  carelessly ;  but  I  saw  that  he  was 
puzzled  by  my  distress,  and  wondered  what 
the  matter  was. 

4  What  is  it?'  he  asked.  'What's  the 
rally  for?' 

'  OH/  I  cried,  '  the  coastguards — over  at 
Black  Pool.' 

'Yes,'  he  said  carelessly,  'what  about 
them  ? ' 

'They've   discovered   it,'    I    cried,     'The 


78  JIM   DAVIS 

cave  under  the  cliff-top.  They've  dis- 
covered it.' 

His  face  did  not  change  ;  he  looked  at  me 
rather  hard  ;  and  then  asked  me,  quite  care- 
lessly, what  I  had  seen. 

'  Two  coastguards/  I  answered.  '  Two 
coastguards.  In  the  furze.  They  were 
listening  to  people  somewhere  below  them.1 

'Yes/  he  said,  still  carelessly,  'over  at 
Black  Pool  ?  I  suppose  they  recognised 
you  ?' 

'Yes,  they  must  have.  We  three  are 
known  all  over  the  place.  And  I  ran  to 
tell  you.' 

4  So  I  see/  he  said  grimly.  '  You  seem  to 
have  run  like  a  tea-ship.  Well,  you  needn't 
have.  There's  no  cave  on  this  side  Sal- 
combe,  except  the  hole  at  Tor  Cross.  What 
made  you  run  to  tell  me  ? ' 

'  Oh/  I  said,  '  you've  been  so  kind — so 
kind,  and — I  don't  know — I  thought  they'd 
send  you  to  prison/ 

'  Did  you  ?  '  he  said  gruffly.  '  Did  you 
indeed  ?  Well,  they  won't.  There  was  no 
call  for  you  to  fret  your  little  self.  Still, 
you've  done  it;  I'll  remember  that — I'll 
always  remember  that.  Now  you  be  off  to 
your  tea,  quick.  Cut ! ' 


THE   OWL'S   CRY  79 

When  he  gave  an  order  it  was  always  well 
for  us  to  obey  it  at  once  ;  if  we  did  not  he 
used  to  lose  his  temper.  So  when  he  told 
me  to  go  I  got  up  and  turned  away,  but 
slowly,  for  I  was  still  out  of  breath.  I  looked 
back  before  I  passed  behind  the  hedge 
which  marks  the  beginning  of  the  combe, 
but  Marah  had  disappeared — I  could  see  no 
trace  of  him.  Then  suddenly,  from  some- 
where behind  me,  out  of  sight,  an  owl  called 
— and  this  in  broad  daylight.  Three  times 
the  '  Too-hoo,  too-hoo '  rose  in  a  long  wail 
from  the  shrubs,  and  three  times  another 
owl  answered  from  up  the  combe,  and  from 
up  the  valley,  too,  till  the  place  seemed  full 
of  owls.  '  Too-hoo,  too-hoo '  came  the  cries, 
and  very  faintly  came  answers — some  of  them 
in  strange  tones,  as  though  the  criers  asked 
for  information.  As  they  sounded,  the  first 
owl  answered  in  sharp,  broken  cries.  But  I 
had  had  enough.  Breathless  as  I  was,  I 
ran  on  up  the  valley  to  the  house,  only 
hoping  that  no  owl  would  come  swooping 
down  upon  me.  And  this  is  what  happened. 
Just  as  I  reached  the  gate  which  leads  to  the 
little  bridge  below  the  house  I  saw  Joe 
Barnicoat  galloping  towards  me  on  an  un- 
saddled horse  of  Farmer  Rowser's.  He 


80  JIM   DAVIS 

seemed  shocked,  or  upset,  at  seeing  me  ;  but 
he  kicked  the  horse  in  the  ribs  and  galloped 
on,  crying  out  that  he  was  having  a  little  ride. 
His  little  ride  was  taking  him  at  a  gallop  to 
the  owl,  and  I  was  startled  to  find  that  quiet 
Joe,  the  mildest  gardener  in  the  county, 
should  be  one  of  the  uncanny  crew  whose 
signals  still  hooted  along  the  combes. 

When  I  reached  home  the  others  jeered 
at  me  for  a  sluggard.  They  had  been  at 
home  for  twenty  minutes,  and  had  begun  tea. 
I  let  them  talk  as  they  pleased,  and  then 
settled  down  to  work  ;  but  all  that  night  I 
dreamed  of  great  owls,  riding  in  the  dark 
with  bee-skeps  over  them,  filling  the  combes 
with  their  hootings. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    TWO    COASTGUARDS 

THE  next  morning,  when  Hugh  and  I 
came  to  Strete  for  our  lessons,  we  found  a 
lot  of  yeomen  and  preventives  drawn  up  in 
the  village.  People  were  talking  outside 
their  houses  in  little  excited  groups.  Jan 
Edeclog,  the  grocer,  was  at  the  door  of  his 
shop,  wiping  his  hands  on  his  apron.  There 
was  a  general  rustle  and  stir,  something  had 
evidently  happened. 

'  What's  all  the  row  about,  Mr  Edeclog?' 
I  asked. 

'  Row  ? '  he  asked.  '  Row  enough,  Master 
Jim.  Two  of  the  coastguards,  who  were  on 
duty  yesterday  afternoon,  have  disappeared. 
It's  thought  there's  been  foul  play.' 

My  heart  sank  into  my  boots,  my  head 
swam,  I  could  hardly  stand  upright.  All  my 
thought  was :  '  They  have  been  killed.  And 
all  through  my  telling  Marah.  And  I'm  a 
murderer.' 


82  JIM   DAVIS 

I  don't  know  how  I  could  have  got  to  the 
Rectory  gate,  had  not  the  militia  captain 
come  from  the  tavern  at  that  moment.  He 
mounted  his  horse,  called  out  a  word  of 
command,  and  the  men  under  him  moved  off 
towards  Slapton  at  a  quick  trot. 

*  They  have  gone  to  beat  the  Lay  banks,' 
said  some  one,  and  then  someone  laughed 
derisively. 

I  walked  across  to  the  Rectory  and  flung 
my  satchel  of  books  on  to  the  floor.  The 
Rector's  wife  came  into  the  hall  as  we 
entered.  '  Why,  Jim,'  she  said,  '  what  is  the 
matter  ?  Aren't  you  well  ? ' 

'  Not  very/  I  answered. 

'  My  dear,'  she  cried  to  her  husband, 
1  Jim's  not  well.  He  looks  as  though  he'd 
seen  a  ghost,  poor  boy.' 

'Why,  Jim,'  said  the  Rector,  coming  out 
of  the  sitting-room,  '  what's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  Had  too  much  jam  for  breakfast  ? 

'No,'  I  said.  '  But  I  feel  faint.  I  feel 
sick.  Can  I  go  to  sit  in  the  garden  for  a 
minute  ? ' 

'  Yes,'  he  answered.  *  Certainly.  I'll  get 
you  a  glass  of  cold  water.' 

I  was  really  too  far  gone  to  pay  much  heed 
to  anything.  I  think  I  told  them  that  I 


THE   TWO   COASTGUARDS     83 

should  be  quite  well  in  a  few  minutes,  if  they 
would  leave  me  there  ;  and  I  think  that  Mrs 
Evans  told  her  husband  to  come  indoors, 
leaving  me  to  myself.  At  any  rate  they 
went  indoors,  and  then  the  cool  air,  blowing 
on  me  from  the  sea,  refreshed  me,  so  that 
I  stood  up. 

I  could  think  of  nothing  except  the  words  : 
'  I  am  a  murderer.'  A  wild  wish  came  to 
me  to  run  to  the  cliffs  by  Black  Pool  to  see 
whether  the  bodies  lay  on  the  grass  in  the 
place  where  I  had  seen  them  (full  of  life) 
only  a  few  hours  before.  Anything  was 
better  than  that  uncertainty.  In  one 
moment  a  hope  would  surge  up  in  me 
that  the  men  would  not  be  dead  ;  but  perhaps 
only  gagged  and  bound  :  so  that  I  could  free 
them.  In  the  next  there  would  be  a  feeling 
of  despair,  that  the  men  lay  there,  dead 
through  my  fault,  killed  by  Marah's  orders, 
and  flung  among  the  gorse  for  the  crows 
and  gulls.  I  got  out  of  the  Rectory  garden 
into  the  road  ;  and  in  the  road  I  felt  strong 
enough  to  run  ;  and  then  a  frenzy  took  hold 
of  me,  so  that  I  ran  like  one  possessed.  It 
is  not  very  far  to  Black  Pool ;  but  I  think 
I  ran  the  whole  way.  I  didn't  feel  out  of 
breath  when  I  got  there,  though  I  had  gone 


84  JIM   DAVIS 

at  top  speed ;  a  spirit  had  been  in  me,  such 
as  one  only  feels  at  rare  times.  Afterwards, 
when  I  saw  a  sea-fight,  I  saw  that  just  such 
a  spirit  filled  the  sailors,  as  they  loaded  and 
fired  the  guns. 

I  pushed  my  way  along  the  cliffs  through 
the  gorse,  till  I  came  to  the  patch  where  the 
coast-guards  had  lain.  The  grass  was 
trampled  and  broken,  beaten  flat  in  places  as 
though  heavy  bodies  had  fallen  on  it ;  there 
were  marks  of  a  struggle  all  over  the 
patch.  Some  of  the  near-by  gorse  twigs 
were  broken  from  their  stems ;  some  one 
had  dropped  a  small  hank  of  spunyarn. 
They  had  lain  there  all  that  night,  for  the 
dew  was  thick  upon  them.  What  puzzled 
me  at  first  was  the  fact  that  there  were 
marks  from  only  two  pairs  of  boots,  both  of 
the  regulation  pattern.  The  men  who 
struggled  with  the  coastguards  must  have 
worn  moccasins,  or  heelless  leather  slippers, 
made  out  of  some  soft  hide. 

I  felt  deeply  relieved  when  I  saw  no 
bodies,  nor  any  stain  upon  the  grass.  I 
began  to  wonder  what  the  night-riders  had 
done  with  the  coastguards ;  and,  as  I  sat 
wondering,  I  heard,  really  and  truly,  a  noise 
of  the  people  talking  from  a  little  way  below 


THE   TWO   COASTGUARDS     85 

me,  just  beyond  the  brow  of  the  cliff 
That  told  me  at  once  that  there  was  a  cave, 
even  as  I  had  suspected.  I  craned  forward 
eagerly,  as  near  as  I  dared  creep,  to  the  very 
rim  of  the  land.  I  looked  down  over  the 
edge  into  the  sea,  and  saw  the  little  blue 
waves  creaming  into  foam  far  below  me. 

I  could  see  nothing  but  the  side  of  the 
cliff,  with  its  projecting  knobs  of  rock  ;  no 
opening  of  any  kind,  and  yet  a  voice 
from  just  below  me  (it  seemed  to  come  from 
below  a  little  projecting  slab  a  few  feet 
down) :  a  voice  just  below  me,  I  say,  said, 
quite  clearly,  evidently  between  puffs  at 
a  pipe,  '  I  don't  know  so  much  about  that/ 
Another  voice  answered ;  but  I  could  not 
catch  the  words.  The  voice  I  should  have 
known  anywhere ;  it  was  Marah's  *  good- 
temper  voice/  as  he  called  it,  making  a 
pleasant  answer. 

'That  settles  it,1  I  said  to  myself. 
'  There's  a  cave,  and  the  coastguards  are 
there,  I'll  be  bound,  as  prisoners.  Now  I 
have  to  find  them  and  set  them  free/ 

Very  cautiously  I  peered  over  the  cliff-face, 
examining  every  knob  and  ledge  which 
might  conceal  (or  lead  to)  an  opening  in  the 
rock.  No.  I  could  see  nothing ;  the  cliff 


86  JIM   DAVIS 

seemed  to  me  to  be  almost  sheer ;  and 
though  it  was  low  tide,  the  rocks  at  the  base 
of  the  cliffs  seemed  to  conceal  no  opening. 
I  crept  cautiously  along  the  cliff-top,  as  near 
to  the  edge  as  I  dared,  till  I  was  some  twenty 
feet  from  the  spot  where  I  had  heard  the 
voice.  Then  I  looked  down  again  carefully, 
searching  every  handbreadth  for  a  firm 
foothold  or  path  down  the  rocks,  with  an 
opening  at  the  end,  through  which  a  big 
man  could  squeeze  his  body.  No.  There 
was  nothing.  No  living  human  being  could 
get  down  that  cliff-face  without  a  rope  from 
up  above  ;  and  even  if  he  managed  to  get 
down,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  the 
sea  for  him  at  the  end  of  his  journey.  Again 
I  looked  carefully  right  to  the  foot  of  the 
crag.  No.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  ; 
I  was  off  the  track  somehow. 

Now,  just  at  this  point  the  cliff  fell  inland 
for  a  few  paces,  forming  a  tiny  bay  about 
six  yards  across.  To  get  along  the  cliff 
towards  Strete  I  had  to  turn  inland  for  a 
few  steps,  then  turn  again  to  my  left,  and 
after  a  few  more  steps  turn  again  towards 
the  sea,  in  order  to  reach  the  cliff.  I  skirted 
the  little  bay  in  this  mannner,  and  dropped 
one  or  two  stones  into  it  from  where  I  stood. 


THE   TWO   COASTGUARDS     87 

As  I  craned  over  the  edge,  watching  them 
fall  into  the  sea,  I  caught  sight  of  something 
far  below  me,  in  the  water. 

I  caught  my  breath  and  looked  again,  but 
the  thing,  whatever  it  was,  had  disappeared 
from  sight.  It  was  something  red,  which 
had  gleamed  for  a  moment  from  behind  a 
rock  at  the  base  of  the  cliff.  I  watched 
eagerly  for  a  moment  or  two,  hearing  the 
sucking  of  the  sea  along  the  stones,  and  the 
cry  of  the  seagulls'  young  in  their  nests  on 
the  ledges.  Then,  very  slowly,  as  the  slack 
water  urged  it,  I  saw  the  red  stem -piece  of 
a  rather  large  boat  nosing  slowly  forward 
apparently  from  the  cliff-face  towards  the 
great  rock  immediately  in  front  of  it.  The 
secret  was  plain  in  a  moment.  Here  was  a 
cave  with  a  sea-entrance,  and  a  cave  big 
enough  to  hide  a  large,  sea-going  fisher's 
boat ;  a  cave,  too,  so  perfectly  hidden  that  it 
could  not  possibly  be  seen  from  any  point 
except  right  at  the  mouth.  A  coastguard's 
boat  could  row  within  three  yards  of  the 
entrance  and  never  once  suspect  its  being 
there,  unless,  at  a  very  low  tide,  the  sea 
clucked  strangely  from  somewhere  within. 
Any  men  entering  the  little  bay  in  a  boat 
would  see  only  the  big  rock  hiding  the  face 


88  JIM   DAVIS 

of  the  cliff.  No  one  would  suspect  that 
behind  the  rock  lay  a  big  cave  accessible 
from  the  sea,  at  low  tide  in  fair  weather. 
Even  in  foul  weather,  good  boatmen  (and 
all  the  night-riders  were  wonderful  fellows  in 
a  boat)  could  have  made  that  cave  in  safety, 
for  at  the  mouth  of  the  little  bay  there  was  a 
great  rock,  which  shut  it  in  on  the  south- 
west side,  so  that  in  our  bad  south-westerly 
gales  the  bay  or  cove  would  have  been 
sheltered,  though  full  of  the  foam  spattered 
from  the  sheltering  crag. 

I  had  found  the  cave,  but  my  next  task 
was  to  find  an  entrance,  and  that  seemed  to 
be  no  easy  matter.  I  searched  every  inch 
of  the  cliff-face  for  a  foothold,  but  there  was 
nothing  there  big  enough  for  anything  bigger 
than  a  sea-lark.  I  could  never  have 
clambered  down  the  cliff,  even  had  I  the 
necessary  nerve,  which  I  certainly  had  not. 
The  only  way  down  was  to  shut  my  eyes 
and  walk  over  the  cliff-edge,  and  trust  to 
luck  at  the  bottom,  and  'that  was  one 
beyond  me' — only  Marah  Gorsuch  would 
have  tried  that  way.  No  ;  there  was  no 
way  down  the  cliff-side,  that  was  certain. 

Now,  somebody — I  think  it  was  old  Alec 
Jewler,  the  ostler  at  the  Tor  Cross  posting- 


THE   TWO   COASTGUARDS     89 

house — had  told  me  that  here  and  there 
along  the  coast,  but  most  of  all  in  Cornwall, 
near  Falmouth,  there  had  once  been  arsenic 
mines,  now  long  since  worked  out.  Their 
shafts,  he  said,  could  be  followed  here  and 
there  for  some  little  distance,  and  every  now 
and  again  they  would  broaden  out  into 
chambers,  in  which  people  sometimes  live, 
even  now.  It  occurred  to  me  that  there 
might  be  some  such  shaft-opening  among  the 
gorse  quite  close  to  me  ;  so  I  crept  away 
from  the  cliff-brink,  and  began  to  search 
among  the  furze,  till  my  skin  was  full  of 
prickles.  Though  I  searched  diligently  for 
an  hour  or  two,  I  could  find  no  hole  big 
enough  to  be  the  mouth  of  a  shaft.  I  knew* 
that  a  shaft  of  the  kind  might  open  a 
hundred  yards  from  where  I  was  searching, 
and  I  was  therefore  well  prepared  to  spend 
some  time  in  my  hunt.  And  at  last,  when 
I  was  almost  tired  of  looking,  I  came  across 
a  fox  or  badger  earth,  not  very  recent,  which 
seemed,  though  I  could  not  be  certain,  to 
broaden  out  inside.  I  lay  down  and  thrust 
my  head  down  the  hole,  and  that  confirmed 
me.  From  up  the  hole  there  came  the  reek 
of  strong  ship's  tobacco.  I  had  stumbled 
upon  one  of  the  cave's  air-holes. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    CAVE    IN    THE    CLIFF 

MY  heart  was  thumping  on  my  ribs  as  I 
thrust  and  wriggled  my  body  down  the  hole. 
I  did  not  think  how  I  was  to  get  back  again  ; 
it  never  once  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
stick  in  the  burrow,  and  die  stifled  there, 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  My  one  thought  was, 
'  I  shall  save  the  coastguards/  and  that 
thought  nerved  me  to  push  on,  careless  of 
everything  else.  It  was  not  at  all  easy  at 
first,  for  the  earth  fell  in  my  ears  from  the 
burrow-roof,  and  there  was  very  little  room 
for  my  body.  Presently,  as  I  had  expected, 
the  burrow  broadened  out — I  could  kneel 
erect  in  it  quite  easily ;  and  then  I  found 
that  I  could  stand  up  without  bumping  my 
head.  I  was  not  frightened,  I  was  only 
very  excited  ;  for,  now  that  I  stood  in  the 
shaft,  the  reek  of  the  tobacco  was  very 
strong.  I  could  see  hardly  anything — only 


THE   CAVE   IN  THE   CLIFF     91 

the  light  from  the  burrow-mouth,  lighting  up 
the  sides  of  the  burrow  for  a  yard  or  two, 
and  a  sort  of  gleam,  a  sort  of  shining  wet- 
ness, upon  the  floor  of  the  shaft  and  on  its 
outer  wall.  I  heard  the  wash  of  the  sea,  or 
thought  I  heard  it,  and  that  was  the  only 
noise,  except  a  steady  drip,  drip,  splash 
where  water  dripped  from  the  roof  into  a 
pool  on  the  floor.  For  a  moment  I  stood 
still,  not  certain  which  way  to  go.  Then  I 
settled  to  myself  the  direction  from  which 
I  had  heard  the  voices,  and  turned  along  the 
shaft  on  that  side. 

When  I  had  walked  a  few  yards  my  nerve 
began  to  go  ;  for  the  gleam  on  the  walls 
faded,  the  last  glimmer  of  light  went  out. 
I  was  walking  along  an  unknown  path 
in  pitchy  darkness,  hearing  only  the  drip, 
drip,  splash  of  the  water  slowly  falling  from 
the  roof.  Suddenly  I  ran  against  a  sort  of 
breastwork  of  mortared  stones,  and  the 
shock  almost  made  me  faint.  I  stretched 
my  hand  out  beyond  it,  but  could  feel  noth- 
ing, and  then  downward  on  the  far  side,  but 
could  feel  nothing ;  and  then  I  knocked 
away  a  scrap  of  stone  from  the  top 
of  the  wall,  and  it  seemed  to  fall  for  several 
seconds  before  a  faint  splash  told  me  that 


92  JIM   DAVIS 

it  had  reached  water.  The  shaft  seemed 
to  turn  to  the  right  and  left  at  this  low  wall, 
and  at  first  I  turned  to  the  left,  but  only  for 
a  moment,  as  I  soon  saw  that  the  right-hand 
turning  would  bring  me  more  quickly  to  the 
cliff-face  from  which  I  had  heard  the  voices. 

After  I  had  made  my  choice,  you  may  be 
sure  that  I  went  on  hands  and  knees,  feeling 
the  ground  in  front  of  me.  I  went  forward 
very,  very  slowly,  with  the  wet  mud  coming 
through  my  knickerbockers,  and  the  cold 
drops  sometimes  falling  on  my  neck  from 
the  roof.  At  last  I  saw  a  little  glimmer  of 
light,  and  there  was  a  turning  to  the  left ; 
and  just  beyond  the  turning  there  was  a 
chamber  in  the  rock,  all  lit  up  by  the  sun,  as 
clear  as  clear.  There  were  holes  in  the 
cliff-face,  one  of  them  a  great  big  hole,  and 
the  sun  shone  through  on  to  the  floor  of  the 
cave,  and  I  could  look  out  and  see  the  sea, 
and  the  seagulls  going  past  after  fish,  and  the 
clouds  drifting  up  by  the  horizon.  Very 
cautiously  I  crept  up  to  the  entrance  to  the 
chamber,  and  then  into  it,  so  that  I  could 
look  all  round  it. 

It  was  not  a  very  large  room  (I  suppose  it 
was  fifteen  feet  square)  and  it  looked  rather 
smaller  than  it  was,  because  it  was  heaped 


THE   CAVE   IN   THE   CLIFF     93 

almost  to  the  roof  in  one  or  two  places  with 
boxes  and  kegs,  and  the  various  sea-stores, 
such  as  new  rope  and  spare  anchors.  In 
one  corner  of  it  (in  the  corner  at  which  I 
entered  it)  a  flight  of  worn  stone  steps  led 
downwards  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 
*  Aha ! '  I  thought ;  '  so  that's  how  you  reach 
your  harbour ! '  Then  I  crept  up  to  one  of 
the  piles  of  boxes  and  cautiously  peeped 
over. 

I  looked  over  cautiously,  for  as  I  entered 
the  room  I  had  the  eerie  feeling  which  one 
gets  sometimes  at  night ;  I  felt  that  there  was 
somebody  else  in  the  room.  Sure  enough 
there  was  somebody  else — two  somebodies— 
and  my  heart  leaped  up  in  joy  to  see  them. 
Sitting  on  the  ground,  tied  by  the  body  to 
some  of  the  boxes  over  which  I  peered,  were 
the  two  missing  coastguards.  Their  backs 
were  towards  me,  and  their  hands  and  feet 
were  securely  bound  ;  but  they  were  unhurt, 
that  was  the  great  thing.  One  of  them  was 
quietly  smoking,  filling  the  cave  with  strong 
tobacco  smoke ;  the  other  was  asleep, 
breathing  rather  heavily.  It  was  evidently 
a  pleasant  holiday  for  the  pair  of  them.  No 
other  person  was  in  the  room,  but  I  saw 
that  on  the  far  side  of  the  chamber  another 


94  JIM   DAVIS 

gallery  led  on  into  the  cliff  to  another 
chamber,  and  from  this  chamber  came  the 
sound  of  many  voices  talking  (in  a  dull  quiet 
way),  and  the  slow  droning  of  the  song  of  a 
drunken  man.  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  lay 
across  the  boxes  as  still  as  a  dead  man, 
trying  to  summon  up  enough  courage  to 
speak  to  the  coastguard  ;  and  all  the  time  the 
drunkard's  song  quavered  and  shook,  and 
died  down,  and  dragged  on  again,  as  though 
it  would  never  end.  Afterwards  I  often 
heard  that  song,  in  all  its  thirty  stanzas ; 
and  I  have  only  to  repeat  a  line  of  it  to  bring 
back  to  myself  the  scene  of  the  sunny  cave, 
with  the  bound  coastguard  smoking,  and  the 
smugglers  talking  and  talking  just  a  few 
paces  out  of  sight. 

'  And  the  gale  it  roar-ed  dismally 
As  we  went  to  New  Barbary,' 

said  the  singer ;  and  then  some  one  asked  a 
question,  and  some  one  struck  a  light  for  his 
pipe,  and  the  singer  droned  on  and  on  about 
the  bold  Captain  Glen,  and  the  ship  which 
met  with  such  disaster. 

At  last  I  summoned  up  enough  courage  to 
speak.  I  crawled  over  the  boxes  as  far  as  I 
could,  and  touched  the  coastguard.  'Sh!' 


THE   CAVE   IN   THE   CLIFF     95 

I  said,  in  a  low  voice.  '  Don't  make  a  sound; 
I've  come  to  rescue  you/ 

The  man  started  violently  (I  dare  say  his 
nerves  were  in  a  bad  way  after  his  night  in 
the  cave),  he  dropped  his  pipe  with  a  little 
clatter  on  to  the  stones,  and  turned  to  stare 
at  me. 

'  Sh  ! '  I  said  again.  *  Don't  speak.  Don't 
make  a  sound.' 

I  crept  round  the  boxes  to  him,  and  opened 
my  knife.  It  was  a  strong  knife,  with  very 
sharp  blades  (Marah  used  to  whet  them  for 
me),  so  that  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  cut 
through  the  '  inch-and-a-half  rope,'  which 
lashed  the  poor  fellow  to  the  boxes. 

'Thankee,  master,'  the  man  said,  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet  and  stretched  himself.  '  I 
was  getting  stiff.  Now,  let's  get  out  of  here. 
D'ye  know  the  way  out  ? ' 

'Yes,5  I  said,  'I  think  I  do.  Oh,  don't 
make  a  noise ;  but  come  this  way.  This 
way.' 

Very  quietly  we  stole  out  by  the  gallery 
by  which  I  had  entered.  We  made  no 
attempt  to  rouse  the  sleeping  man  ;  he  slept 
too  heavily,  and  we  could  not  afford  to  run 
risks.  I  don't  know  what  the  coastguard's 
feelings  were.  As  for  myself,  I  was  pretty 


96  JIM   DAVIS 

nearly  fainting  with  excitement,  I  could  hear 
my  heart  go  thump,  thump,  thump ;  it 
seemed  to  be  right  up  in  my  very  throat. 
As  we  stepped  into  the  gloom  of  the  gallery, 
the  smugglers  behind  us  burst  into  the 
chorus  at  the  end  of  the  song — 

'  O  never  more  do  I  intend 
For  to  cross  the  raging  main 
But  to  live  at  home  most  cheerfull-ee, 
And  thus  I  end  my  traged-ee,' 

I  felt  that  if  I  could  get  away  from  that 
adventure,  I  too,  would  live  at  home  most 
cheerfully  until  the  day  of  my  death.  We 
took  advantage  of  the  uproar  to  step  quickly 
into  the  darkness  of  the  passage. 

Just  before  we  came  to  the  low  stone 
breastwork  which  had  given  me  such  a 
shock  a  few  minutes  before,  we  heard  some 
one  whistling  a  bar  of  a  tune.  The  tune 
was  the  tune  of — 

'  Oh,  my  true  love's  listed,  and  wears  a  white 
cockade.' 

And  to  our  horror  the  whistler  was  coming 
quickly  towards  us.  In  another  second  we 
saw  him  stepping  along  the  gallery,  swinging 
a  lantern.  He  was  a  big,  strong  man, 
evidently  familiar  with  the  way. 


THE   CAVE   IN   THE   CLIFF     97 

'  Back/  said  the  coastguard  in  a  gasp. 
1  Get  back,  for  your  life,  and  down  that 
staircase.' 

The  man  didn't  see  us  ;  didn't  even  hear 
us.  He  stopped  at  the  stone  breastwork, 
opened  his  lantern,  and  lit  his  pipe  at  the 
candle,  and  then  stepped  on  leisurely  towards 
the  chamber.  Our  right  course  would  have 
been  '  to  go  for  him,'  knock  him  down,  knock 
the  breath  out  of  him,  lash  his  wrists  and 
ankles  together,  and  bolt  for  the  entrance. 
But  the  coastguard  was  rather  upset  by  his 
adventure,  and  he  let  the  minute  pass  by. 
Had  he  rushed  at  the  man  as  soon  as  he  ap- 
peared ;  but,  there — it  is  no  use  talking. 
We  didn't  rush  at  him,  we  scuttled  back 
into  the  chamber,  and  then  down  the  worn 
stone  steps  cut  out  of  the  rock,  which  seemed 
to  lead  down  and  down  into  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  As  we  hurried  down,  leaping 
lightly  on  the  tips  of  our  toes,  the  quaver 
of  the  tune  came  after  us,  so  clearly  that 
I  even  made  a  guess  at  the  whistler's 
identity. 

When  we  had  run  down  the  staircase  about 
half-way  down  to  sea-level  we  found  our- 
selves in  a  cave  as  big  as  the  church  at 
Dartmouth.  It  was  fairly  light,  for  the 
G 


98  JIM   DAVIS 

entrance  was  large,  though  low,  and  at  low 
water  (as  it  was  then)  the  roof  of  the  cave- 
mouth  stood  six  feet  from  the  sea.  The  sea 
ran  up  into  the  cave  in  a  deep  triangular 
channel,  with  a  landing-place  (a  natural  ledge 
of  rock)  on  each  of  the  sides,  and  the  sea 
entrance  at  the  base.  The  sea  made  a  sort 
of  clucking  noise  about  the  rocks  ;  and  at  the 
right  inland  it  washed  upon  a  cave-floor  of 
pebbles,  which  clattered  slightly  as  the  swell 
moved  them.  The  roof  dripped  a  little,  and 
there  were  little  pools  on  both  the  landings, 
and  the  whole  place  had  a  queer,  dim,  green, 
uncanny  light  upon  it ;  due,  I  suppose,  to  the 
deep  water  of  the  channel.  I  saw  all  these 
things  afterwards,  at  leisure ;  I  did  not 
notice  them  very  clearly  in  that  first  moment. 
All  that  I  saw  then  was  a  large  sea-lugger, 
lying  moored  at  the  cave-mouth,  some  few 
feet  lower  down.  She  was  a  beautiful  model 
of  a  boat  (I  had  seen  that  much  in  seeing  her 
bow  from  the  top  of  the  cliff),  but  of  course 
her  three  masts  were  unstepped,  and  she  was 
rather  a  handful  for  a  man  and  a  boy.  We 
saw  her,  and  made  a  leap  for  her  together, 
and  both  of  us  landed  in  her  bows  at  the 
same  instant,  just  as  the  man  with  the  lantern, 
peering  down  from  the  top  of  the  stairs,  asked 


THE   CAVE   IN   THE   CLIFF    99 

us    what  in  the  world  we    were  playing  at 
down  there. 

The  coastguard  made  no  answer,  for  he 
was  busy  in  the  bows  ;  I  think  he  had  his 
knife  through  the  painter  in  five  seconds. 
Then  he  snatched  up  a  boat-hook  (I  took  an 
oar),  and  we  drove  her  with  all  our  strength 
along  the  channel  into  (or,  I  should  say, 
towards)  the  open  sea  and  freedom. 

'Hey,'  cried  the  man  with  the  lantern, 
'chuck  that!  Are  you  mad?'  He  took  a 
step  or  two  down  the  staircase,  in  order  to 
see  better. 

'  Drive  her,  oh,  drive  her,  boy ! '  cried  the 
coastguard. 

I  thrust  with  all  my  force,  the  coastguard 
gave  a  mighty  heave,  the  lugger  slid  slowly 
seawards. 

'Hey!'  yelled  the  smuggler,  clattering 
upstairs,  dropping  his  lantern  down  on  us. 
'  Hey,  Marah,  Jewler,  Smokewell,  Hankin — 
all  of  you  !  They've  got  away  in  the  boat.' 

'  Now   the  play    begins,'    said   the  coast- 
guard.      'Another    heave,    and    another— 
together  now ! ' 

We  drove  the  lugger  forward  again,  so 
that  half  her  length  thrust  out  into  the  sea. 
We  ran  aft  to  give  her  a  final  thrust  out,  and 


100  JIM   DAVIS 

just  at  that  moment  her  bow  struck  upon  the 
rock  at  the  cave  mouth  :  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment  we  had  not  realised  that  one 
of  us  was  wanted  in  the  bows  to  shove  her 
nose  clean  into  the  sea  The  blow  threw  us 
both  upon'  our  hands  and  knees  in  the  stern 
sheets  ;  it  took  us  half-a-dozen  seconds  to 
pick  ourselves  up,  and  then  I  realised  that  I 
should  have  to  jump  forward  and  guide  the 
boat  clear  of  all  outlying  dangers.  As  I 
sprang  to  the  bows  there  came  yells  from  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  where  I  saw  half-a-dozen 
smugglers  coming  full  tilt  towards  us. 

Some  one  cried  out  '  Drop  it,  drop  it,  you 
fool ! '  Another  voice  cried  '  Fire ! '  and  two 
or  three  shots  cracked  out,  making  a  noise 
like  a  cannonade.  The  coastguard  gave  a 
last  desperate  heave,  I  shoved  the  bows 
clear,  and  lo  !  we  were  actually  gliding  out. 
The  coastguard's  body  was  outside  the  cliff 
in  full  sunlight,  giving  a  final  thrust  from  the 
cliff  wall.  And  then  I  saw  Marah  leap  into 
the  stern  sheets  as  they  passed  out  of  the 
cave ;  he  gave  a  little  thrust  to  the  coast- 
guard, just  a  gentle  thrust — enough  to  make 
him  lose  his  balance  and  topple  over. 

'  That's  enough  now,'  he  said,  with  a  grim 
glance  at  me.  '  That's  enough  for  one  time/ 


THE   CAVE   IN   THE   CLIFF  101 

He  picked  up  the  coastguard's  boat-hook 
(the  man  just  grinned  and  looked  sheepish  ; 
he  made  no  attempt  to  fight  with  Marah)  and 
thrust  the  boat  back  into  the  cave  with  half- 
a-dozen  deft  strokes.  Another  smuggler 
dropped  down  into  the  stern  sheets,  looked 
at  the  coastguard  with  a  grin,  and  helped  to 
work  the  lugger  back  into  the  cave.  A 
third  man  threw  down  a  sternfast  to  secure 
her ;  a  fourth  jumped  into  the  bow  and 
began  to  put  a  long  splice  into  the  painter 
which  we  had  cut.  We  had  tried  and  we 
had  failed ;  here  we  were  prisoners  again, 
and  I  felt  sick  at  heart  lest  those  rough 
smugglers  should  teach  us  a  lesson  for  our 
daring.  But  Marah  just  told  the  coastguard 
to  jump  out. 

'  Out  you  get/  he  said,  'and  don't  try  that 
again/ 

'  I  won't/  said  the  coastguard. 

'You'd  better  not/  said  another  smuggler. 
That  was  all. 

We  were  helped  out  of  the  lugger  on  to 
the  ledge  above  the  channel,  and  the 
smugglers  walked  behind  us  up  the 
stairs  to  the  room  we  had  just  left.  The 
other  coastguard  was  still  snoring,  and 
that  seemed  strange  to  me,  for  the 


102  JIM   DAVIS 

last  few  minutes  had  seemed  like 
hours. 

*  Better  bring  him  inside,  boss/  said  one 
of  the  smugglers.  '  He  may  try  the  same 
game.' 

'  He's  got  no  young  sprig  to  cut  his 
lashings/  said  Marah.  '  He'll  be  well 
enough/  So  they  left  the  man  to  his  quiet 
and  passed  on  with  their  other  prisoners 
into  the  inner  room. 


* 


CHAPTER   IX 

SIGNING    ON 

THE  inner  room  was  much  larger  than  the 
prison  chamber ;  it  was  not  littered  with 
boxes,  but  clean  and  open  like  a  frigate's 
lower  deck.  It  was  not,  perhaps,  quite  so 
light  as  the  other  room,  but  there  were  great 
holes  in  the  cliff  hidden  by  bushes  from  the 
view  of  passing  fishermen,  and  the  sun 
streamed  through  these  on  to  the  floor, 
leaving  only  the  ends  of  the  room  in  shadow. 
The  room  had  been  arranged  like  the  mess- 
deck  of  a  war-ship ;  there  were  sea-chests 
and  bags  ranged  trimly  round  the  inner  wall ; 
there  was  a  trestle  table  littered  with  tin 
pannikins  and  plates.  The  roof  was  sup- 
ported by  a  line  of  wooden  stanchions. 
There  were  arm  racks  round  the  stanchions, 
containing  muskets,  cutlasses,  and  long, 
double-barrelled  pistols.  As  I  expected, 
there  were  several  bee-skeps  hanging  from 

103 


104  JIM   DAVIS 

nails,  or  lying  on  the  floor.  I  was  in  the 
smugglers'  roost,  perhaps  in  the  presence  of 
Captain  Sharp  himself. 

The  drunken  smuggler  who  had  sung  of 
Captain  Glen  was  the  only  occupant  of  the 
room  when  we  entered  :  he  sat  half  asleep  in 
his  chest,  still  clutching  his  pannikin,  still 
muttering  about  the  boatswain.  He  was  an 
Italian  by  birth,  so  Marah  told  me.  He  was 
known  as  Gateo.  When  he  was  sober  he 
was  a  good  seaman,  but  when  he  was  drunk 
he  would  do  nothing  but  sing  of  Captain 
Glen  until  he  dropped  off  to  sleep.  He  had 
served  in  the  Navy,  Marah  told  me,  and  had 
once  been  a  boatswain's  mate  in  the  Victory  ; 
but  he  had  deserted,  and  now  he  was  a 
smuggler  living  in  a  hole  in  the  earth. 

'And  now,'  said  Marah,  after  he  had  told 
me  all  this,  '  you  and  me  will  have  to  talk. 
Step  into  the  other  room  there,  you  boys,'  he 
cried  to  the  other  smugglers  :  '  I  want  to 
have  a  word  with  master  here/ 

One  of  the  men — he  was  the  big  man  who 
had  raised  the  alarm  on  us  ;  I  never  knew 
his  real  name,  everybody  always  called  him 
Extry — said  glumly  that  he  '  wasn't  going  to 
oblige  boys,  not  for  dollars.' 

Marah  turned  upon  him,  and  the  two  men 


SIGNING   ON  105 

faced  each  other ;  the  others  stood  ex- 
pectantly, eager  for  a  fight. 

'Step  into  the  other  room  there,'  repeated 
Marah  quietly. 

'  I  ain't  no  pup  nor  no  nigger-man,'  said 
Extry.  '  You  ain't  going  to  order  me/ 

Marah  seemed  to  shrink  into  himself  and 
to  begin  to  sparkle  all  over— I  can't  describe 
it :  that  is  the  effect  he  produced — he  seemed 
to  settle  down  like  a  cat  going  to  spring. 
Extry 's  hand  travelled  round  for  his  sheath- 
knife,  and  yet  it  moved  indecisively,  as 
though  half  afraid.  And  then,  just  as  I  felt 
that  Extry  would  die  from  being  looked  at 
in  that  way,  he  hung  his  head,  turned  to  the 
door,  and  walked  out  sheepishly  according  to 
order.  He  was  beaten. 

'  No  listening  now,'  said  Marah,  as  they 
filed  out.  '  Keep  on  your  own  side  of  the 
fence.' 

'  Shall  we  take  Gatty  with  us  ?  '  said  one 
of  the  men. 

'Let  him  lie,'  said  Marah:  'he's  hove 
down  for  a  full  due,  Gatty  is.' 

The  men  disappeared  with  their  prisoner. 
Marah  looked  after  them  for  a  moment. 
1  Now,'  he  said,  '  come  on  over  here  to  the 
table,  Master  Jim.'  He  watched  me  with  a 


106  JIM   DAVIS 

strange  grin  upon  his  face ;  I  knew  that 
grin  ;  it  was  the  look  his  face  always  bore 
when  he  was  worried.  '  Now  we  will  come 
to  business.  Lie  back  against  the  hammocks 
and  rest;  I'm  going  to  talk  to  you  like  a  father.' 

I  lay  back  upon  the  lashed-up  hammocks 
and  he  began. 

'  I  suppose  you  know  what  you've  done  ? 
You've  just  about  busted  yourself.  D'ye 
know  that  ?  You  thought  you'd  rescue  the 
pugs ' — he  meant  coastguards.  *  Well,  you 
haven't.  You  have  gone  and  shoved  your 
head  down  a  wasp's  nest,  so  you'll  find. 
How  did  you  get  here,  in  the  first  place  ? 
What  gave  you  your  clue  ? ' 

*  I  saw  the  coastguards  up  above  here 
yesterday,'  I  answered,  'and  I  thought  I 
heard  voices  speaking  from  below  the  brow 
of  the  cliff,  so  then  I  searched  about  till  I 
found  a  hole,  and  so  I  got  down  here.' 

'  Ah,'  said  Marah,  '  they  will  be  round  here 
looking  for  you,  then.  I'll  take  the  liberty 
of  hiding  your  tracks.'  He  went  into  the 
other  room  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  one  of 
the  other  smugglers.  'Well,'  he  said,  as  he 
came  back  to  me,  '  they'll  not  find  you  now, 
if  they  search  from  now  till  glory.  They'll 
think  you  fell  into  the  sea/ 


SIGNING   ON  107 

'But,5  I  exclaimed,  'I  must  go  home! 
Surely  I  can  go  home  now  ?  They'll  be  so 
anxious/ 

1  Yes/  said  Marah,  '  they'll  be  anxious. 
But  look  you  here,  my  son ;  folk  who  acts 
hasty,  as  you've  done,  they  often  make  other 
people  anxious — often  enough.  Very  anxious 
indeed,  some  of  'em.  That's  what  you  have 
done  by  coming  nosing  around  here.  Now 
here  you  are,  our  prisoner — Captain  Sharp's 
prisoner — and  here  you  must  stay/ 

'But,  I  must  go  home/  I  cried,  the 
tears  coming  to  my  eyes.  '  I  must  go 
home/ 

'Well,  you  just  can't/ he  answered  kindly. 
'  Think  it  over  a  minute.  You've  come  here/ 
he  went  on,  '  nosing  round  like  a  spy  ;  you've 
found  out  our  secret.  You  might  let  as 
many  as  fifty  men  in  for  the  gallows — fifty 
men  to  be  hanged,  d'ye  understand ;  or  to 
be  transported,  or  sent  to  a  hulk,  or  drafted 
into  a  man-o'-war.  I  don't  say  you  would, 
for  I  believe  you  have  sense :  still,  you're 
only  a  boy,  and  they  might  get  at  you  in  all 
sorts  of  ways.  Cunning  lawyers  might. 
And  then  you'd  give  us  away  and  where 
would  we  be  ?  Eh,  boy  ?  Where  would  we 
be  ?  Suppose  you  gave  us  away,  meaning 


108  JIM   DAVIS 

no  harm,  not  really  knowing  what  you  done. 
Well,  I  ask  you,  where  would  we  be  ? ' 

'  I  wouldn't  give  you  away/  I  said  hotly. 
'  You  know  I  wouldn't.  I  never  gave  you 
away  about  the  hut  in  the  woods,' 

'No,'  he  said,  'you  never;  but  this  time 
there's  men's  necks  concerned.  I  can't  help 
myself — Captain  Sharp's  orders.  I  couldn't 
let  you  go  if  I  wanted  to  ;  the  hands  wouldn't 
let  me.  It'd  be  putting  so  many  ropes  round 
their  necks/  By  this  time  I  was  crying. 
'  Don't  cry  young  'un,'  he  said  ;  '  it  won't  be 
so  bad.  But  you  see  yourself  what  youVe 
done  now,  don't  you  ? ' 

He  walked  away  from  me  a  turn  or  two 
to  let  me  have  my  cry  out.  When  my  sobs 
ceased,  he  came  back  and  sat  close  to  me, 
waiting  for  me  to  speak. 

'  What  will  you  do  to  me  ?  '  I  asked  him. 

'Why,'  he  answered,  'there's  only  one 
thing  to  be  done  ;  either  you've  got  to  become 
one  of  us,  so  as  if  you  give  us  away  you'll  be 
in  the  same  boat — I  don't  say  you  need  be 
one  of  us  for  long ;  only  a  trip  or  two — or, 
you'll  have  to  walk  through  the  window 
there,  and  that's  a  long  fall  and  a  mighty  wet 
splash  at  the  bottom.1 

I  thought  of  Mims  waiting  at  home  for  me, 


SIGNING   ON  109 

and  of  the  jolly  tea-table,  with  Hooly  begging 
for  toast  and  Hugh's  face  bent  over  his  plate. 
The  thought  that  I  should  never  see  them 
again  set  me  crying  passionately — I  cried  as 
if  my  heart  would  break. 

'  Why  —  come,  come,'  said  Marah  ;  '  I 
thought  you  were  a  sailor.  Take  a  brace, 
boy.  We're  not  going  to  kill  you.  You'll 
make  a  trip  or  two.  What's  that  ?  Why 
it's  only  a  matter  of  a  week  or  two,  and  it'll 
make  a  man  of  you.  A  very  jolly  holiday. 
I'll  be  able  to  make  a  man  of  you  just  as  I 
said  I  would.  You'll  see  life  and  you'll  see 
the  sea,  and  then  you'll  come  home  and 
forget  all  about  us.  But  go  home  you'll  not, 
understand  that,  till  we  got  a  hold  on  you 
the  same  as  you  on  us.' 

There  was  something  in  his  voice  which 
gave  me  the  fury  of  despair.  I  sprang  to  my 
feet,  almost  beside  myself.  '  Very  well,  then, ' 
I  cried.  *  You  can  drown  me.  I'm  not  going 
to  be  one  of  you.  And  if  I  ever  get  away 
I'll  see  you  all  hanged,  every  one  of  you — 
you  first.' 

I  couldn't  say  more,  for  I  burst  out  crying 
again. 

Marah  sat  still,  watching  me.  'Wel^ 
well,'  he  said,  '  I  always  thought  you  had 


110  JIM   DAVIS 

spirit.     Still,  no  sense  in  drowning  you,  no 
sense  at  all.1 

He  walked  to  the  door  and  called  out  to 
some  of  the  smugglers,  '  Here,  Extry, 
Hankin,  you  fellows,  just  come  in  here,  I 
want  you  a  moment.' 

The  men  came  in  quickly,  and  ranged 
themselves  about  the  room,  grinning  cheer- 
fully. 

''Low  me  to  introduce  you,'  said  Marah. 
'  Our  new  apprentice,  Mr  Jim  Davis.' 

The  men  bowed  to  me  sheepishly. 

'  Glad  to  meet  Mr  Davis,'  said  one  of  them. 

1  Quite  a  pleasure,'  said  another. 

'I  s'pose  you  just  volunteered,  Mr  Jim?' 
said  the  third. 

'  Yes,'  said  Marah  ;  '  he  just  volunteered. 
I  want  you  to  witness  his  name  on  the 
articles.'  He  produced  a  sheet  of  paper 
which  was  scrawled  all  over  with  names. 
'  Now,  Mr  Jim,'  he  said,  'your  name,  please. 
There's  ink  and  pen  in  the  chest  here/ 

4  What  d'ye  want  my  name  for  ? '  I  asked. 

'Signing  on,'  he  said,  winking  at  me. 
*  It's  only  a  game.' 

'  I  won't  set  my  name  to  the  paper.'  I 
cried.  '  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  you 
I'd  sooner  die — far  sooner.' 


SIGNING   ON  111 

'  That's  a  pity,'  said  Marah,  taking  up  the 
pen.  '  Well,  if  you  won't,  you  won't.' 

He  bent  over  the  chest  and  wrote  'Jim 
Davis'  in  a  round,  unformed,  boyish  hand, 
not  unlike  my  own. 

'  Now,  boys,'  he  said,  '  you  have  seen  the 
signature.  Witness  it,  please.' 

The  men  witnessed  the  signature  and 
made  their  clumsy  crosses ;  none  of  them 
could  write. 

'  You  see  ? '  asked  Marah.  *  We  were 
bound  to  get  you,  Jim.  You've  signed  our 
articles.' 

*  I've  done  nothing  of  the  kind,'  I  said. 

'Oh!  but  you  have,'  he  said  calmly. 
'  Here's  your  witnessed  signature.  You're 
one  of  us  now.' 

4  It's  a  forgery ! '  I  cried. 

'  Forgery  ? '  he  said  in  pretended  amaze- 
ment. '  But  here  are  witnesses  to  swear  to 
it.  Now  don't  take  on,  son ' — he  saw  that  I 
was  on  the  point  of  breaking  down  again  at 
seeing  myself  thus  trapped.  '  You  can't  get 
away.  You're  ours.  Make  the  best  of  a  bad 
job.  We  will  tell  your  friends  you  are  safe. 
They'll  know  within  an  hour  that  you  will 
not  be  home  till  the  end  of  June.  After  that 
you  will  be  enough  one  of  us  to  keep  your 


112  JIM   DAVIS 

tongue  shut  for  your  own  sake.  Pm  sorry 
you  don't  like  it.  Well,  "  The  sooner  the 
quicker  "  is  a  good  proverb.  The  sooner  you 
dry  your  tears,  the  quicker  we  can  begin  to 
work  together.  Here  Smokewell,  get  dinner 
along ;  it's  pretty  near  two  o'clock.  Now, 
Jim,  my  son,  I'll  just  send  a  note  to  your 
people.'  He  sat  down  on  a  chest  and  began 
to  write.  '  No,'  he  added  ;  'you  had  better 
write.  Say  this :  "  I  am  safe.  I  shall  be 
back  in  three  weeks'  time.  Say  I  have  gone 
to  stay  in  Somersetshire  with  Captain  Sharp. 
Do  not  worry  about  me.  Do  not  look  for 
me.  I  am  safe/'  There ;  that's  enough. 
Give  it  here.  Hankin,  deliver  this  letter  at 
once  to  Mrs  Cottier,  at  the  Snail's  Castle. 
Don't  show  your  beautiful  face  to  more'n  you 
can  help.  Be  off.' 

Hankin  took  the  letter  and  shambled  out 
of  the  cave.  Long  afterwards  I  heard  that 
he  shot  it  through  the  dining-room  window 
on  a  dart  of  hazelwood  while  the  aunt  and 
Mrs  Cottier  were  at  lunch.  That  was  the 
last  letter  I  wrote  for  many  a  long  day. 
That  was  my  farewell  to  boyhood,  that 
letter. 

After  a  time  Smokewell  brought  in  dinner, 
and  we  all  fell-to  at  the  table.  For  my  own 


SIGNING   ON  113 

part,   I  was  too  sick  at  heart  to  eat  much, 
though  the  food  was  good  enough.     There 
!  was  a  cold  fowl,  a  ham,  and  a  great  apple- 
pasty. 

After  dinner,  the  men  cut  up  tobacco,  and 
played  cards,  and  smoked,  and  threw  dice ; 
but  Marah  made  them  do  this  in  the  outer 
room.  He  was  very  kind  to  me  in  my 
wretchedness.  He  slung  one  of  the  ham- 
mocks for  me,  and  made  me  turn  in  for  a 
sleep.  After  a  time  I  cried  myself  into  a 
sort  of  uneasy  doze.  I  woke  up  from  time 
to  time,  and  whenever  I  woke  up  I  would 
see  Marah  smoking,  with  his  face  turned  to 
the  window,  watching  the  sea.  Then  I 
would  hear  the  flicker  of  the  cards  in  the 
next  room,  and  the  voices  of  the  players. 
'You  go  that?  Do  you?  Well,  and  I'll 
raise  you.'  And  then  I  would  hear  the 
money  being  paid  to  the  winners,  and 
wonder  where  I  was,  and  so  doze  off  again 
into  all  manner  of  dreams. 


H 


CHAPTER    X 

ABOARD   THE   LUGGER 

WHEN  I  woke  up,  it  was  still  bright  day,  but 
the  sun  was  off  the  cliffs,  and  the  caves 
seemed  dark  and  uncanny. 

'  Well/  said  Marah,  '  have  you  had  a  good 
sleep  ? ' 

'Yes/  I  said,  full  of  wretchedness;  'I 
must  have  slept  for  hours/ 

'You'll  need  a  good  sleep/  said  Marah, 
*  for  it's  likely  you'll  have  none  to-night.  We 
night-riders,  the  like  of  you  and  me,  why,  we 
know  what  the  owls  do,  don't  we  ?  We 
sleep  like  cats  in  the  day-time.  They'll  be 
getting  supper  along  in  about  half-an-hour. 
What  d'you  say  to  a  wash  and  that  down  in 
the  sea— a  plunge  in  the  cove  and  then  out 
and  dry  yourself  ?  Why  it'd  be  half  your  life. 
Do  you  all  the  good  in  the  world.  Can't 
offer  you  fresh  water ;  there's  next  to  none 
down  below  here.  But  you  come  down  and 
have  a  dip  in  the  salt' 

114 


ABOARD   THE   LUGGER      115 

He  led  the  way  into  the  next  room,  and 
down  the  stairs  to  the  water.  The  tide  was 
pretty  full,  so  that  I  could  dive  off  one  ledge 
and  climb  out  by  the  ledge  at  the  other  side. 
So  I  dived  in  and  then  climbed  back,  and 
dried  myself  with  a  piece  of  an  old  sail, 
feeling  wonderfully  refreshed.  Then  we 
went  upstairs  to  the  cave  again,  and  supped 
off  the  remains  of  the  dinner ;  and  then  the 
men  sat  about  the  table  talking,  telling  each 
other  stories  of  the  sea.  It  was  dusk  before 
we  finished  supper,  and  the  caves  were  dark, 
but  no  lights  were  allowed.  The  smugglers 
always  went  into  the  passages  to  light  their 
pipes.  I  don't  know  how  they  managed  in 
the  winter :  probably  they  lived  in  the 
passages,  where  a  fire  could  not  be  seen 
from  the  sea.  In  summer  they  could 
manage  very  well. 

Towards  sunset  the  sky  clouded  over,  and 
it  began  to  rain.  I  sat  at  the  cave  window, 
listlessly  looking  out  upon  it,  feeling  very 
sick  at  heart.  The  talk  of  the  smugglers 
rang  in  my  ears  in  little  snatches. 

'  So  I  said,  "  You're  a  liar.  There's  no 
man  alive  ever  came  away,  not  ever.  They 
were  all  drowned,  every  man  Jack."  That's 
what  I  said.' 


116  JIM   DAVIS 

'  Yes/  said  another  ;  '  so  they  was.  I  saw 
the  wreck  myself.  The  lower  masts  was 
standing.' 

I  didn't  understand  half  of  what  they  said  ; 
but  it  all  seemed  to  be  full  of  terrible  mean- 
ing, like  the  words  heard  in  dreams.  Marah 
was  very  kind  in  his  rough  sailor's  way,  but 
I  was  homesick,  achingly  homesick,  and  his 
jokes  only  made  me  more  wretched  than  I 
was.  At  last  he  told  me  to  turn  in  again  and 
get  some  sleep,  and,  after  I  had  tucked 
myself  up,  the  men  were  quieter.  I  slept  in 
a  dazed,  light-headed  fashion  (as  I  had  slept 
in  the  afternoon),  till  sometime  early  in  the 
morning  (at  about  one  o'clock),  when  a  hand 
shook  my  hammock,  and  Marah's  voice  bade 
me  rise. 

It  was  dark  in  the  cave,  almost  pitch-dark. 
Marah  took  my  arm  and  led  me  downstairs 
to  the  lower  cave,  where  one  or  two  battle- 
lanterns  made  it  somewhat  lighter.  There 
were  nearly  twenty  men  gathered  together 
in  the  cave,  and  I  could  see  that  the  lugger 
had  been  half  filled  with  stores,  all  securely 
stowed,  ready  for  the  sea.  A  little,  brightly- 
dressed  mannikin,  in  a  white,  caped  overcoat, 
was  directing  matters,  talking  sometimes 
in  English,  sometimes  in  French,  but  always 


ABOARD   THE   LUGGER      117 

with  a  refined  accent  and  in  picked 
phrases.  He  was  clean  shaven,  as  far  as 
I  could  see,  and  his  eyes  glittered  in  the 
lantern -light.  The  English  smugglers 
addressed  him  as  Captain  Sharp,  but  I 
learnt  afterwards  that  '  Captain  Sharp '  was 
the  name  by  which  all  their  officers  were 
known,  and  that  there  were  at  least  twenty 
other  Captain  Sharps  scattered  along  the 
coast.  At  the  time,  I  thought  that  this  man 
was  the  supreme  head,  the  man  who  had 
sent  Mrs  Cottier  her  present,  the  man  who 
had  spoken  to  me  that  night  of  the  snow- 
storm. 

'  Here,  Marah,'  he  said,  when  he  saw  that 
I  was  taking  too  much  notice  of  him,  '  stow 
that  lad  away  in  the  bows ;  he  will  be 
recognising  me  by-and-by/ 

'Come  on,  Jim,5  said  Marah  ;  'jump  into 
the  boat,  my  son.' 

'  But  where  are  we  going  ? '  I  asked, 
dismayed. 

'  Going  ? '  he  answered.  '  Going  ?  Going 
to  make  a  man  of  you.  Going  to  France, 
my  son/ 

I  hung  back,  frightened  and  wretched. 
He  swung  me  lightly  off  the  ledge  into  the 
lugger's  bows. 


118  JIM   DAVIS 

*  Now,  come,'  he  said  ;  'you're  not  going 
to  cry.  I'm  going  to  make  a  man  of  you. 
Here,  you  must  put  on  this  suit  of  wrap- 
rascal,  and  these  here  knee-boots,  or  you'll 
be  cold  to  the  bone,  'specially  if  you're  sick. 
Put  'em  on,  son,  before  we  sail.'  He  didn't 
give  me  time  to  think  or  to  refuse,  but  forced 
the  clothes  upon  me  ;  they  were  a  world  too 
big,  '  There,'  he  said  ;  '  now  you're  quite  the 
sailor.'  He  gave  a  hail  to  the  little  dapper 
man  above  him.  '  We're  all  ready,  Captain 
Sharp,'  he  cried,  '  so  soon  as  you  like.' 

'Right,'  said  the  Captain.  'You  know 
what  you  got  to  do.  Shove  off,  boys  ! ' 

A  dozen  more  smugglers  leaped  down 
upon  the  lugger ;  the  gaskets  were  cast  off 
the  sails,  a  few  ropes  were  flung  clear.  I 
saw  one  or  two  men  coiling  away  the  lines 
which  had  lashed  us  to  the  rocks.  The 
dapper  man  waved  his  hands  and  skipped 
up  the  staircase. 

'Good-bye,  Jim/  said  some  one.  'So 
long — so  long,'  cried  the  smugglers  to  their 
friends.  Half-a-dozen  strong  hands  walked 
along  the  ledge  with  the  sternfast,  helping 
to  drag  us  from  the  cave.  'Quietly  now,' 
said  Marah,  as  the  lugger  moved  out  into 
the  night.  '  Heave,  oh,  heave,'  said  the 


ABOARD   THE   LUGGER      119 

seamen,  as  they  thrust  her  forward  to  the 
sea.  The  sea  air  beat  freshly  upon  me,  a 
drop  or  two  of  rain  fell,  wetting  my  skin, 
the  water  talked  under  the  keel  and  along 
the  cliff-edge — we  were  out  of  the  cave,  we 
were  at  sea  ;  the  cave  and  the  cliff  were  a 
few  yards  from  us,  we  were  moving  out  into 
the  unknown. 

'  Aft  with  the  boy,  out  of  the  way/  said 
some  one ;  a  hand  led  me  aft  to  the  stern 
sheets,  and  there  was  Marah  at  the  tiller. 
1  Get  sail  on  her,'  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

The  men  ran  to  the  yards  and  masts,  the 
masts  were  stepped  and  the  yards  hoisted 
quietly.  There  was  a  little  rattle  of  sheets 
and  blocks,  the  sails  slatted  once  or  twice. 
Then  the  lugger  past  from  the  last  shelter 
of  the  cliff;  the  wind  caught  us,  and  made 
us  heel  a  little  ;  the  men  went  to  the  weather 
side  ;  the  noise  of  talking  water  deepened. 
Soon  the  water  creamed  into  brightness  as 
we  drove  through  it.  They  set  the  little 
main  topsail  —  luggers  were  never  very 
strictly  rigged  in  those  days. 

'  There's  the  Start  Light,  Jim/  said  Marah. 
'  Bid  it  good-bye.  You'll  see  it  no  more  for 
a  week/ 

They  were  very  quiet  in  the  lugger ;   no 


120  JIM   DAVIS 

one  spoke,  except  when  the  steersman  was 
relieved,  or  when  the  master  wished  some- 
thing done  among  the  rigging.  The  men 
settled  down  on  the  weather  side  with  their 
pipes  and  quids,  and  all  through  the  short 
summer  night  we  lay  there,  huddled  half 
asleep  together,  running  to  the  south  like  a 
stag.  At  dawn  the  wind  breezed  up,  and 
the  lugger  leaped  and  bounded  till  I  felt 
giddy  ;  but  they  shortened  no  sail,  only  let 
her  drive  and  stagger,  wasting  no  ounce 
of  the  fair  wind.  The  sun  came  up,  the 
waves  sparkled,  and  the  .lugger  drove  on  for 
France,  lashing  the  sea  into  foam  and  lying 
along  on  her  side.  I  didn't  take  much 
notice  of  things  for  I  felt  giddy  and  stunned  ; 
but  the  change  in  my  circumstances  had 
been  so  great — the  life  in  the  lugger  was  so 
new  and  strange  to  me — that  I  really  did 
not  feel  keen  sorrow  for  being  away  from 
my  friends.  I  just  felt  stunned  and  crushed. 
Marah  was  at  the  taffrail  looking  out  over 
the  water  with  one  hand  on  the  rail.  He 
grinned  at  me  whenever  the  sprays  rose 
up  and  crashed  down  upon  us.  '  Ha/  he 
would  say,  *  there  she  sprays ;  that  beats 
your  shower-baths/  and  he  would  laugh  to 
see  Ine  duck  whenever  a  very  heavy  spray 


ABOARD   THE  LUGGER      121 

flung  itself  into  the  boat.  We  were  tearing 
along  at  a  great  pace  and  there  were  two 
men  at  the  tiller  :  Marah  was  driving  his 
boat  in  order  to  '  make  a  passage.1  We 
leaped  and  shook,  and  lay  down  and 
rushed,  like  a  thing  possessed ;  our  sails 
were  dark  with  the  spray ;  nearly  every  man 
on  board  was  wet  through. 

By-and-by  Marah  called  me  to  him  and 
took  me  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  with  one 
hand.  'See  here/  he  said,  putting  his 
mouth  against  my  ear  ;  '  look  just  as  though 
nothing  was  happening.  You  see  that  old 
Gateo  at  the  lee  tiller  ?  Well,  watch  him 
for  a  moment.  Now  look  beyond  his  red 
cap  at  the  sea.  What's  that?  Your  eyes 
are  younger — I  use  tobacco  too  much  to 
have  good  eyes.  What's  that  on  the  sea 
there?' 

I  looked  hard  whenever  the  lugger  rose 
up  in  a  swell.  'It's  a  sail,'  I  said,  in  a  low 
voice ;  '  a  small  sail.  A  cutter  by  the  look 
of  her.' 

'Yes,'  he  said,  'she's  a  cutter.  Now 
turn  to  windward.  What  d'ye  make  of 
that?' 

He  jerked  himself  round  to  stare  to  wind- 
ward and  ahead  of  us.  Very  far  away 


122  JIM   DAVIS 

I  could  not  say  how  far,  I  saw,  or  thought  I 
saw,  several  ships ;  but  the  sprays  drove 
into  my  face  and  the  wind  blew  the  tears 
out  of  my  eyes.  'Ships/  I  answered  him. 
'  A  lot  of  ships — a  whole  convoy  of  ships/ 

'Ah,'  he  answered,  'that's  no  convoy. 
That's  the  fleet  blockading  Brest,  my  son. 
That  cutter's  a  revenue  cruiser,  and  she's 
new  from  home ;  her  bottom's  clean,  other- 
wise wre'd  dropped  her.  She's  going  to 
head  us  off  into  the  fleet,  and  then  there  will 
be  James  M'Kenna.' 

'  Who  was  he  ? '  I  asked. 

'Who?  James  M'Kenna?'  he  answered 
lightly.  '  He  stole  the  admiral's  pig.  He 
was  hanged  at  the  yardarm  until  he  was 
dead.  You  thank  your  stars  we  have  not 
got  far  to  go.  There's  France  fair  to 
leeward ;  but  that  cutter's  between  us  and 
there,  so  we  shall  have  a  close  call  to  get 
home.  P'raps  we  shall  not  get  home — it 
depends,  my  son.' 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    FRIGATE    '  LAOCOON  ' 

BY  this  time  the  other  smugglers  had 
become  alarmed.  The  longboat  gun,  which 
worked  on  a  slide  abaft  all,  was  cleared,  and 
the  two  little  cohorns,  or  hand-swivel  guns, 
which  pointed  over  the  sides,  were  trained 
and  loaded.  A  man  swarmed  up  the  main- 
mast to  look  around.  '  The  cutter's  bearing 
up  to  close,'  he  called  out.  '  I  see  she's  the 
Salcombe  boat.' 

'That  shows  they  have  information,' 
said  Marah  grimly,  '  otherwise  they'd  not  be 
looking  for  us  here.  Some  one  has  been 
talking  to  his  wife.'  He  hailed  the  masthead 
again.  '  Have  the  frigates  seen  us  yet  ? ' 

For  answer,  the  man  took  a  hurried  glance 
to  wind-ward,  turned  visibily  white  to  the 
lips,  and  slid  down  a  rope  to  the  deck. 
1  Bearing  down  fast,  under  stunsails/  he 
reported.  *  The  cutter's  signalled  them  with 

"3 


124  JIM   DAVIS 

her  topsail.  There's  three  frigates  coming 
down/  he  added. 

'  Right,'  said  Marah.  *  I'll  go  up  and  see 
for  myself/ 

He  went  up,  and  came  down  again 
looking  very  ugly.  He  evidently  thought 
that  he  was  in  a  hole.  'As  she  goes/  he 
called  to  the  helmsman  '  get  all  you  can  on 
the  sheets,  boys.  Now  Jim,  you're  up  a 
tree  ;  you're  within  an  hour  of  being  pressed 
into  the  Navy.  How'd  ye  like  to  be  a 
ship's  boy,  hey,  and  get  tickled  up  by  a 
bo'sun's  rope-end  ? ' 

'  I  shouldn't  like  it  all/  I  answered. 

'You'll  like  it  a  jolly  sight  less  than  that/ 
said  he,  'and  it's  what  you'll  probably  be. 
We're  ten  miles  from  home.  The  cutter's 
in  the  road.  The  frigates  will  be  on  us  in 
half-an-hour.  It  will  be  a  mighty  close  call, 
my  son  ;  we  shall  have  to  fight  to  get  clear/ 

At  that  instant  of  time  something  went 
overhead  with  a  curious  whanging  whine. 

'That's  a  three-pound  ball/  said  Marah, 
pointing  to  a  spurt  upon  a  wave.  '  The 
cutter  wants  us  to  stop  and  have  breakfast 
with  'em/ 

'Whang/  went  another  shot,  flying  far 
overhead.  '  Fire  away/  said  Marah. 


THE  FRIGATE   'LAOCOON'     125 

1  You're  more  than  a  mile  away  ;  you  will 
not  hit  us  at  that  range.' 

He  shifted  his  course  a  little,  edging  more 
towards  the  shore,  so  as  to  cut  transversely 
across  the  cutter's  bows.  We  ran  for  twenty 
minutes  in  the  course  of  the  frigates ;  by 
that  time  the  cutter  was  within  half  a  mile 
and  the  frigates  within  three  miles  of  us. 
All  the  cutter's  guns  were  peppering  at 
us ;  a  shot  or  two  went  through  our  sails, 
one  shot  knocked  a  splinter  from  our  fife- 
rail. 

*  They  shoot  a  treat,  don't  they  ? '  said 
Marah.  '  Another  minute  and  they  will  be 
knocking  away  a  spar.' 

Just  as  he  spoke,  there  came  another  shot 
from  the  cutter ;  something  aloft  went 
'  crack ' ;  a  rope  unreeved  from  its  pully 
and  rattled  on  to  the  deck  ;  the  mizen  came 
down  in  a  heap  :  the  halliards  had  been  cut 
clean  through.  The  men  leaped  to  repair 
the  damage ;  it  took  but  a  minute  or  two, 
but  we  had  lost  way  ;  the  next  shot  took  us 
square  amidships  and  tore  off  a  yard  of  our 
lee  side. 

'We  must  give  them  one  in  return,'  he 
said.  *  Aft  to  the  gun,  boys.' 

The    men   trained  the  long  gun  on  the 


126  JIM   DAVIS 

cutter.  'Oh,  Marah,'  I  said,  'don't  fire  on 
Englishmen.' 

'  Who  began  the  firing  ? '  he  answered. 
*  I'm  going  to  knock  away  some  of  their 
sails.  Stand  clear  of  the  breach,'  he  shouted, 
as  he  pulled  the  trigger-string. 

The  gun  roared  and  recoiled ;  a  hole 
appeared  as  if  by  magic  in  the  swelling 
square  foresail  of  the  cutter.  '  Load  with 
bar-shot  and  chain,'  said  Marah.  'Another 
like  that  and  we  shall  rip  the  whole  sail  off. 
Mind  your  eye.  There  goes  her  gun  again.' 

This  time  the  shot  struck  the  sea  beside 
us,  sending  a  spout  of  water  over  our  rail. 
Again  Marah  pulled  his  trigger-string,  the 
gun  fell  over  on  its  side,  and  the  cutter's 
mast  seemed  to  collapse  into  itself  as  though 
it  were  wrapping  itself  up  in  its  own  canvas. 
A  huge  loose  clue  of  sail — the  foresail's 
starboard  leach — flew  up  into  the  air ;  the 
boom  swung  after  it ;  the  gaff  toppled  over 
from  above  ;  we  saw  the  topmast  dive  like 
a  lunging  rapier  into  the  sea.  We  had  torn 
the  foresail  in  two,  and  the  shot  passing  on 
had  smashed  the  foremast  just  below  the 
cap.  All  her  sails  lay  in  a  confused  heap 
just  forward  of  the  mast. 

'That's     done    her,'    said    one     of    the 


THE   FRIGATE   'LAOCOON'     127 

smugglers.  '  She  can't  even  use  her  gun 
now.' 

'  Hooray ! '  cried  another.  '  We're  the 
boys  for  a  lark.' 

'Are  you?'  said  Marah.  'We  got  the 
frigates  to  clear  yet,  my  son.  They'll  be 
in  range  in  two  minutes  or  less.  Look  at 
them.' 

Tearing  after  us,  in  chase,  under  all  sail, 
came  the  frigates.  Their  bows  were  burrow- 
ing into  white  heaps  of  foam  ;  we  could  see 
the  red  portlids  and  the  shining  gun-muzzles  ; 
we  could  see  the  scarlet  coats  of  the  marines, 
and  the  glint  of  brass  on  the  poops.  A 
flame  spurted  from  the  bows  of  the  leader. 
She  was  firing  a  shot  over  us  to  bid  us 
heave  to.  The  smugglers  looked  at  each 
other ;  they  felt  that  the  game  was  up. 
Bang!  Another  shot  splashed  into  the 
sea  beside  us,  and  bounded  on  from  wave 
to  wave,  sending  up  huge  splashes  at  each 
bound.  A  third  shot  came  from  the  second 
frigate,  but  this  also  missed.  Marah  was 
leaning  over  our  lee  rail,  looking  at  the 
coast  of  France,  still  several ,  miles  away. 
'White  water,' he  cried  suddenly.  'Here's 
the  Green  Stones.  We  shall  do  them  yet.' 

I  could  see  no  green  stones,  but  a  quarter 


128  JIM   DAVIS 

of  a  mile  away,  on  our  port-hand,  the  sea 
was  all  a  cream  of  foam  above  reefs  and 
sands  just  covered  by  the  tide.  If  they 
were  to  help  us,  it  was  none  too  soon,  for 
by  this  time  the  leading  frigate  was  only 
a  hundred  yards  from  us.  Her  vast  masts 
towered  over  us.  I  could  look  into  her  open 
bow  ports ;  I  could  see  the  men  at  the  bow 
guns  waiting  for  the  word  to  fire.  I  have 
often  seen  ships  since  then,  but  I  never  saw 
any  ship  so  splendid  and  so  terrible  as  that 
one.  She  was  the  Laocoon,  and  her  figure- 
head was  twined  with  serpents.  The  line 
of  her  ports  was  of  a  dull  yellow  colour, 
and  as  all  her  ports  were  open,  the  portlids 
made  scarlet  marks  all  along  it.  Her  great 
lower  studding  sail  swept  out  from  her  side 
for  all  the  world  like  a  butterfly-net,  raking 
the  top  of  the  sea  for  us.  An  officer  stood 
on  the  forecastle  with  a  speaking-trumpet 
in  his  hand. 

'  Stand  by ! '  cried  Marah.  *  They're  going 
to  hail  us/ 

'  Ahoy,  the  lugger  there ! '  yelled  the 
officer.  '  Heave  too  at  once  or  I  sink  you. 
Heave  to.' 

'Answer  him  in  French,'  said  Marah  to 
one  of  the  men. 


THE   FRIGATE   'LAOCOON'     129 

A  man  made  some  answer  in  French  ;  I 
think  he  said  he  didn't  undertsand.  The 
officer  told  a  marine  to  fire  at  us.  The 
bullet  whipped  through  the  mizen.  '  Bang ' 
went  one  of  the  main-deck  guns  just  over 
our  heads.  We  felt  a  rush  and  shock,  and 
our  mizen  mast  and  sail  went  over  the  side. 

Marah  stood  up  and  raised  his  hand. 
'  We  surrender,  sir ! '  he  shouted  ;  *  we 
surrender !  Down  helm,  boys.5 

We  swung  round  on  our  keel,  and  came 
to  the  wind.  We  saw  the  officer  nod 
approval  and  speak  a  word  to  the  sailing- 
master,  and  then  the  great  ship  lashed  past 
us,  a  mighty,  straining,  heaving  fabric  of 
beauty,  whose  lower  studding  sails  were  wet 
half-way  to  their  irons. 

'  Now  for  it ! '  said  Marah.  He  hauled  his 
wind,  and  the  lugger  shot  off  towards  the 
broken  water.  'If  we  get  among  those 
shoals/  he  said,  '  we're  safe  as  houses. 
The  frigate's  done.  She's  going  at  such 
a  pace  they  will  never  stop  her.  Not  till 
she's  gone  a  mile.  Not  without  they  rip 
the  masts  out  of  her.  That  officer  ought  to 
have  known  that  trick.  That  will  be  a  lesson 
to  you,  Mr  Jim.  If  ever  you're  in  a  little 
ship,  and  you  get  chased  by  a  big  ship,  you 


130  JIM   DAVIS 

keep  on  till  she's  right  on  top  of  you,  and 
then  luff  hard  all  you  know,  and  the  chances 
are  you'll  get  a  mile  start  before  they  come 
round  to  go  after  you/ 

We  had,  in  fact,  doubled  like  a  hare,  and 
the  frigate,  like  a  greyhound,  had  torn  on 
ahead,  unable  to  turn.  We  saw  her  lower 
stunsail  boom  carry  away  as  they  took 
in  the  sail,  and  we  could  see  her  seamen 
running  to  their  quarters  ready  to  brace 
the  yards  and  bring  the  ship  to  her  new 
course.  The  lugger  soon  gathered  way 
and  tore  on,  but  it  was  now  blowing  very 
fresh  indeed,  and  the  sea  before  us  was  one 
lashing  smother  of  breakers/  Marah  seemed 
to  think  nothing  of  that ;  he  was  watching 
the  frigates.  One,  a  slower  sailer  than  the 
other,  was  sailing  back  to  the  fleet ;  the 
second  had  hove  to  about  a  mile  away,  with 
her  longboat  lowered  to  pursue  us.  The 
boat  was  just  clear  of  her  shadow  ;  crowding 
allsail  m  order  to  get  to  us.  The  third 
ship,  the  ship  which  we  had  tricked,  was 
hauling  to  the  wind,  with  her  light  canvas 
clued  up  for  furling.  In  a  few  moments  she 
was  braced  up  and  standing  towards  us,  but 
distant  about  a  mile. 

Suddenly  both   frigates   opened  fire,  and 


THE   FRIGATE   CLAOCOON'     131 

the  great  cannon  balls  ripped  up  the  sea  all 
round  us. 

'They'll  sink  us,  sure/  said  one  of  the 
smugglers  with  a  grin. 

The  men  all  laughed,  and  I  laughed  too ; 
we  were  all  so  very  much  interested  in  what 
was  going  to  happen.  The  guns  fired 
steadily  one  after  the  other  in  a  long  rolling 
roar.  The  men  laughed  at  each  shot. 

'They  couldn't  hit  the  sea,'  they  said 
derisively.  '  The  navy  gunners  are  no  use 
at  all.' 

'No,'  said  Marah,  'they're  not.  But  if 
they  keep  their  course  another  half-minute 
they'll  be  on  the  sunk  reef,  and  a  lot  of  'em 
'11  be  drowned.  I  wonder  will  the  old 
Laocoon  take  a  hint.' 

'Give  'em  the  pennant,'  said  Gateo. 

'  Ay,  give  it  'em,'  said  half-a-dozen  others. 
'  Don't  let  'em  wreck.' 

Marah  opened  the  flag-locker,  and  took 
out  a  blue  pennant  (it  had  a  white  ball  in  the 
middle  of  it),  which  he  hoisted  to  his  main 
truck.  '  Let  her  go  off/  he  cried  to  the 
helmsman. 

For  just  a  moment  we  lay  broadside  on  to 
the  frigate,  a  fair  target  for  her  guns,  so  that 
she  could  see  the  pennant  blowing  out  clear. 


132  JIM   DAVIS 

'You  see,  Jim?'  asked  Marah.  'That 
pennant  means  "You  are  standing  in  to 
danger."  Now  we  will  luff  again.' 

'  I  don't  think  they  saw  it,  guv'nor,'  said 
one  of  the  sailors  as  another  shot  flew  over 
us.  '  They'll  have  to  send  below  to  get 
their  glasses,  those  blind  navy  jokers.' 

'Off/  said  Marah,  quickly  ;  and  again  we 
lay  broadside  on,  tumbling  in  the  swell, 
shipping  heavy  sprays. 

This  time  they  saw  it,  for  the  Laocoons 
helm  was  put  down,  her  great  sails  shivered 
and  threshed,  and  she  stood  off  on  the  other 
tack.  As  she  stood  away  we  saw  an  officer 
leap  on  to  the  taffrail,  holding  on  by  the 
mizen  backstays. 

'  Tar  my  wig/  said  Marah,  '  if  he  isn't 
bowing  to  us  ! ' 

Sure  enough  the  officer  took  off  his  hat  to 
us  and  bowed  gracefully. 

'Polite  young  man/  said  Marah.  'We 
will  give  them  the  other  pennant/ 

Another  flag,  a  red  pennant,  was  hoisted 
in  place  of  the  blue.  'Wishing  you  a 
pleasant  voyage/  said  Marah.  '  Now  luff, 
my  sons.  That  longboat  will  be  on  to  us/ 

Indeed,  the  longboat  had  crept  to  within 
six  hundred  yards  of  us  ;  it  was  time  we 


THE   FRIGATE   'LAOCOON'     133 

were   moving,    though   the   guns    were    no 
longer  firing  on  us  from  the  ships. 

'  Mind  your  helm,  boys,'  said  Marah  as 
he  went  forward  to  the  bows.  '  I've  got  to 
con  you  through  a  lot  of  bad  rocks.  You'll 
have  to  steer  small  or  die.1 


CHAPTER  XII 

BLACK    POOL    BAY 

I  SHALL  not  describe  our  passage  through 
the  Green  Stones  to  Kermorvan,  but  in 
nightmares  it  comes  back  to  me.  We 
seemed  to  wander  in  blind  avenues, 
hedged  in  by  seas,  and  broken  water, 
awful  with  the  menace  of  death.  For 
five  or  six  hours  we  dodged  among  rocks 
and  reefs,  wet  with  the  spray  that  broke 
upon  them  and  sick  at  heart  at  the  sight  of 
the  whirlpools  and  eddies.  I  think  that  they 
are  called  the  Green  Stones  because  the 
seas  break  over  them  in  bright  green  heaps. 
Here  and  there  among  them  the  tide  seized 
us  and  swept  us  along,  and  in  the  races 
where  this  happened  there  were  sucking 
whirlpools,  strong  enough  to  twist  us  round. 
How  often  we  were  near  our  deaths  I  cannot 
think,  but  time  and  time  again  the  backwash 
of  a  breaker  came  over  our  rail  in  a  green 


BLACK   POOL   BAY  135 

mass.  When  we  sailed  into  Kermorvan  I 
was  only  half  conscious  from  the  cold  and 
wet.  I  just  remember  some  one  helping 
me  up  some  steps  with  seaweed  on  them. 

We  stayed  in  Kermorvan  for  a  week  or 
more,  waiting  for  our  cargo  of  brandy,  silk, 
and  tobacco,  and  for  letters  and  papers 
addressed  to  the  French  war-prisoners  in 
the  huge  prison  on  Dartmoor. 

I  was  very  unhappy  in  Kermorvan,  think- 
ing of  home.  It  would  have  been  less 
dismal  had  I  had  more  to  do,  but  I  was 
unoccupied  and  a  prisoner,  in  charge  of  an 
old  French  woman,  who  spoke  little  English, 
so  that  time  passed  slowly  indeed.  At  last 
we  set  sail  up  the  coast,  hugging  the  French 
shore,  touching  at  little  ports  for  more  cargo 
till  we  came  to  Cartaret.  Here  a  French 
gentleman  (he  was  a  military  spy)  came 
aboard  us,  and  then  we  waited  two  or  three 
days  for  a  fair  wind.  At  last  the  wind  drew 
to  the  east,  and  we  spread  all  sail  for  home 
on  a  wild  morning  when  the  fishermen  were 
unable  to  keep  the  sea. 

At  dusk  we  were  so  near  to  home  that  I 
could  see  the  Start  and  the  whole  well- 
known  coast  from  Salcombe  to  Dartmoor. 
In  fact  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  see  it,  for 


136  JIM    DAVIS 

we  doused  our  sails  several  miles  out  to  sea, 
and  lay  tossing  in  the  storm  to  a  sea-anchor, 
waiting  for  the  short  summer  night  to  fall. 
When  it  grew  dark  enough  (of  course,  in 
that  time  of  year,  it  is  never  very  dark  even 
in  a  storm)  we  stole  in,  mile  by  mile,  to 
somewhere  off  Flushing,  where  we  showed 
a  light.  We  showed  it  three  times  from  the 
bow,  and  at  the  last  showing  a  red  light 
gleamed  from  Flushing  Church.  That  was 
the  signal  to  tell  us  that  all  was  safe,  so 
then  we  sailed  into  Black  Pool  Bay,  where 
the  breakers  were  beating  fiercely  in  tramp- 
ling ranks. 

There  were  about  a  dozen  men  gathered 
together  on  the  beach.  We  sailed  right 
in,  till  we  were  within  ten  yards  of  the 
sands,  and  there  we  moored  the  lugger  by 
the  head  and  stern,  so  that  her  freight  could 
be  discharged.  The  men  on  the  beach 
waded  out  through  the  surf  (though  it  took 
them  up  to  the  armpits),  and  the  men  in 
the  lugger  passed  the  kegs  and  boxes  to 
them.  Waves  which  were  unusually  big 
would  knock  down  the  men  in  the  water, 
burden  and  all,  and  then  there  would  be 
laughter  from  all  hands,  and  grumbles 
from  the  victim.  I  never  saw  men 


BLACK   POOL   BAY  137 

work  harder.  The  freight  was  all  flung  out 
and  landed  and  packed  in  half  an  hour.  It 
passed  out  in  a  continual  stream  from  both 
sides  of  the  boat ;  everybody  working  like 
a  person  possessed.  And  when  the  lugger 
was  nearly  free  of  cargo,  and  the  string  of 
workers  in  the  water  was  broken  on  the 
port  side,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  a 
chance  of  escape.  It  flashed  into  my  mind 
that  it  was  dark,  that  no  one  in  the  lugger 
was  watching  me,  that  the  set  of  the  tide 
would  drive  me  ashore  (I  was  not  a  good 
swimmer,  but  I  knew  that  in  five  yards  I 
should  be  able  to  touch  bottom),  and  that  in 
another  two  hours,  or  less,  I  should  be  in 
bed  at  home,  with  all  my  troubles  at  an  end. 
When  I  thought  of  escaping,  I  was  stand- 
ing alone  at  the  stern.  A  lot  of  the  boat's 
crew  were  in  the  water,  going  ashore  to 
'  run '  the  cargo,  on  horseback,  to  the  wilds 
of  Dartmoor.  The  others  w«e  crowded  at 
the  bow,  watching  them  go,  or  watching  the 
men  upon  the  beach,  moving  here  and  there 
by  torchlight,  packing  the  kegs  on  the 
horses'  backs.  It  was  a  wild  scene.  The 
wind  blew  the  torches  into  great  red  fiery 
banners  ;  the  waves  hissed  and  spumed,  and 
glimmered  into  brightness  ;  you  could  see 


138  JIM   DAVIS 

the  horses  shying,  and  the  men  hurrying  to 
and  fro  ;  and  now  and  then  some  one  would 
cry  out,  and  then  a  horse  would  whinny. 
All  the  time  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
unnecessary  talk  and  babble ;  the  voices 
and  laughter  of  the  seamen  came  in 
bursts  as  the  wind  lulled.  Every  now 
and  then  a  wave  would  burst  with  a 
smashing  noise,  and  the  smugglers  would 
laugh  at  those  wetted  by  the  spray.  I  saw 
that  I  had  a  better  chance  of  landing  un- 
observed on  the  port  side  ;  so  I  stole  to  that 
side,  crawled  over  the  gunwale,  and  slid  into 
the  sea  without  a  splash. 

The  water  made  me  gasp  at  first ;  but 
that  only  lasted  a  second.  I  made  a  gentle 
stroke  or  two  towards  the  shore,  trying  not 
to  raise  my  head  much,  and  really  I  felt 
quite  safe  before  I  had  made  three  strokes. 
When  you  swim  in  the  sea  at  night,  you  see 
so  little  that  you  feel  that  you,  in  your  turn, 
cannot  be  seen  either.  All  that  I  could  see 
was  a  confused  mass  of  shore  with  torch- 
lights. Every  now  and  then  that  would  be 
hidden  from  me  by  the  comb  of  a  wave  ;  and 
then  a  following  wave  would  souse  into  my 
face  and  go  clean  over  me  ;  but  as  my  one 
thought  was  to  be  hidden  from  the  lugger,  I 


BLACK   POOL   BAY  139 

rather  welcomed  a  buffet  of  that  sort.  I 
very  soon  touched  bottom,  for  the  water 
near  the  beach  is  shallow.  I  stood  up  and 
bent  over,  so  as  not  to  be  seen,  and  began 
to  stumble  towards  the  shelter  of  the 
rocks.  The  business  of  lading  the  horses 
was  going  steadily  forward,  with  the  same 
noisy  hurry.  I  climbed  out  of  the  back- 
wash 'of  the  last  breaker,  and  dipped  down 
behind  a  rock,  high  and  dry  on  the  sands. 
I  was  safe,  I  thought,  safe  at  last,  and  I  was 
too  glad  at  heart  to  think  of  my  sopping 
clothes,  and  of  the  cold  which  already  made 
me  shiver  like  an  aspen.  Suddenly,  from 
up  the  hill,  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
from  me,  came  the  '  Hoo-hoo '  of  an  owl. 
the  smuggler's  danger  signal.  The  noise 
upon  the  beach  ceased  at  once  ;  the  torches 
plunged  into  the  sand  and  went  out :  I 
heard  the  lugger's  crew  cut  their  cables  and 
hoist  sail. 

A  voice  said  €  Carry  on  boys.  The  pre- 
ventives are  safe  at  Bolt  Tail,'  and  at  that 
the  noise  broke  out  before. 

Some  one  cried  'Sh,'  and  '  Still,'  and  in 
the  silence  which  followed,  the  '  Hoo-hoo '  of 
the  owl  called  again,  with  a  little  flourishing 
note  at  the  end  of  the  call. 


140  JIM   DAVIS 

A  man  cried  out,  '  Mount  and  scatter.1 

Some  one  else  cried,  '  Where's  Marah  ? ' 
and  as  I  lay  crouched,  some  one  bent  over 
me  and  touched  me. 

'  Sorry,  Jim,'  said  Marah's  voice.  'I 
knew  you'd  try  it.  You  only  got  your 
clothes  wet.  Come  on,  now.' 

'  Hoo-hoo '  went  the  owl  again,  and  at 
this,  the  third  summons,  we  distinctly  heard 
many  horses'  hooves  coming  at  a  gallop 
towards  us,  though  at  a  considerable 
distance. 

'  Marah !  Come  on,  man  ! '  cried  several 
voices. 

'Come  on,'  said  Marah,  dragging  me  to 
the  horses.  '  Off,  boys,'  he  called.  *  Scatter 
as  you  ride.'  Many  horses  moved  off  at  a 
smart  trot  up  the  hill  to  Stoke  Fleming. 
Their  horses'  feet  were  muffled  with  felt,  so 
that  they  made  little  noise,  although  they 
were  many. 

Marah  swung  me  up  into  the  saddle  of 
one  of  the  three  horses  in  his  care.  He 
himself  rode  the  middle  horse.  I  was  on 
his  off  side.  The  horse  I  mounted  had  a 
keg  of  spirits  lashed  to  the  saddle  behind 
me  ;  the  horse  beyond  Marah  was  laden  like 
a  pack- mule. 


BLACK   POOL   BAY  141 

'We're  the  rearguard/  said  Marah  to  me. 
4  We  must  bring  them  clear  off.  Ride  boys 
— Strete  road/  he  called  ;  and  the  smugglers 
of  the  rearguard  clattered  off  by  the  back 
road,  or  broken  disused  lane,  which  leads  to 
Allington.  Still  Marah  waited,  the  only 
smuggler  now  left  on  the  beach.  The 
preventive  officers  were  clattering  down  the 
hill  to  us,  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
'  It's  the  preventives  right  enough/  he  said, 
as  a  gust  of  wind  brought  the  clatter  of 
sabres  to  us,  above  the  clatter  of  the  hooves. 
( We're  in  for  a  run  to-night  Some  one's 
been  blabbing.  I  think  I  know  who.  Well, 
I  pity  him.  That's  what.  I  pity  him. 
Here,  boy.  You  ought  not  to  ha'  tried  to 
cut.  You'll  be  half  frozen  with  the  wet. 
Drink  some  of  this.' 

He  handed  me  a  flask,  and  forced  me  to 
take  a  gulp  of  something  hot ;  it  made  me 
gasp,  but  it  certainly  warmed  me,  and  gave 
me  heart  after  my  disappointment.  I  was 
too  cold  and  too  broken  with  misery  to  be 
frightened  of  the  preventives.  I  only  prayed 
that  they  might  catch  me  and  take  me 
home. 

We  moved  slowly  to  the  meeting  of  the 
roads,  and  there  Marah  halted  for  a  moment. 


142  JIM   DAVIS 

Our  horses  stamped,  and  then  whinnied.  A 
horse  on  the  road  above  us  whinnied. 

One  of  the  clattering  troop  cried  '  There 
they  are.  We  have  them.  Come  along, 
boys.' 

Some  one — I  knew  the  voice — it  was 
Captain  Barmoor,  of  the  Yeomanry — cried 
out  '  Stand  and  surrender.'  And  then  I  saw 
the  sabres  gleam  under  the  trees,  and  heard 
the  horses'  hooves  grow  furious  upon  the 
stones.  Marah  stood  up  in  his  stirrups,  and 
put  his  fingers  in  his  mouth,  and  whistled  a 
long,  wailing,  shrill  whistle.  Then  he 
kicked  his  horses  and  we  started,  at  a 
rattling  pace,  up  the  wretched  twisting  lane 
which  led  to  Allington. 

Now,  the  preventives,  coming  downhill  at 
a  tearing  gallop,  could  not  take  the  sharp 
turn  of  the  lane  without  pulling  up ;  they  got 
mixed  in  some  confusion  at  the  turning,  and 
a  horse  and  rider  went  into  the  ditch.  We 
were  up  the  steep  rise,  and  stretching  out  at 
full  tilt  for  safety,  before  they  had  cleared  the 
corner.  Our  horses  were  fresh  ;  theirs  had 
trotted  hard  for  some  miles  under  heavy 
men,  so  that  at  the  first  sight  the  advantage 
lay  with  us  ;  but  their  horses  were  better 
than  ours,  and  in  better  trim  for  a  gallop. 


BLACK   POOL   BAY  143 

Marah  checked  the  three  horses,  and  let 
them  take  it  easy,  till  we  turned  into  the  well- 
remembered  high  road  which  leads  from 
Strete  to  my  home.  Here,  on  the  level,  he 
urged  them  on,  and  the  pursuit  swept  after 
us  ;  and  here  in  the  open,  I  felt  for  the  first 
time  the  excitement  of  the  hunt.  I  wanted 
to  be  caught ;  I  kept  praying  that  my  horse 
would  come  down,  or  that  the  preventives 
would  catch  us  ;  and  at  the  same  time  the 
hurry  of  our  rush  through  the  night  set  my 
blood  leaping,  made  me  cry  aloud  as  we 
galloped,  made  me  call  to  the  horses  to 
gallop  faster.  There  was  nothing  on  the 
road ;  no  one  was  travelling ;  we  had  the 
highway  to  ourselves.  Near  the  farm  at  the 
bend  we  saw  men  by  the  roadside,  and  an 
owl  called  to  us  from  among  them,  with  that 
little  flourish  at  the  end  of  the  call  which  I 
had  heard  once  before  that  evening.  We 
dashed  past  them  ;  but  as  Marah  passed,  he 
cried  out,  'Yes.  Be  quick.'  And  behind 
us,  as  we  sped  along,  we  heard  something 
dragged  across  the  road.  The  crossways 
lay  just  beyond. 

To  my  surprise,  Marah  never  hesitated. 
He  did  not  take  the  Allington  road,  but 
spurred  uphill  towards  the  'Snail's  Castle/ 


144  JIM   DAVIS 

and  the  road  to  Kingsbridge.  As  we 
galloped,  we  heard  a  crash  behind  us,  and 
the  cry  of  a  hurt  horse,  and  the  clatter  of  a 
sword  upon  the  road.  Then  more  cries 
sounded  ;  we  could  hear  our  pursuers  pull- 
ing up. 

'They're  into  a  tree-trunk,'  said  Marah. 
'  Some  friends  put  a  tree  across,  and  one  of 
them's  gone  into  it.  We  shall  probably 
lose  them  now,'  he  added.  'They  will  go 
on  for  Allington.  Still,  we  mustn't  wait  yet.' 

Indeed,  the  delay  was  only  momentary. 
The  noise  of  the  horses  soon  re-commenced 
behind  us  ;  and  though  they  paused  at  the 
cross-roads,  it  was  only  for  a  few  seconds. 
Some  of  the  troopers  took  the  Allington 
road.  Another  party  took  the  road  which 
we  had  taken  ;  and  a  third  party  stopped 
(I  believe)  to  beat  the  farm  buildings  for  the 
men  who  had  laid  the  tree  in  the  road. 

We  did  not  stop  to  see  what  they  were 
doing,  you  may  be  sure ;  for  when  Marah 
saw  that  his  trick  had  not  shaken  them  off, 
he  began  to  hurry  his  horses,  and  we  were 
soon  slipping  and  sliding  down  the  steep 
zig-zag  road  which  leads  past  '  Snail's  Castle.' 
I  had  some  half-formed  notion  of  flinging 
myself  off  my  horse  as  we  passed  the  door, 


BLACK  POOL   BAY  145 

or  of  checking  the  horse  I  rode,  and  shouting 
for  help.  For  there,  beyond  the  corner, 
was  the  house  where  I  had  been  so  happy, 
and  the  light  from  the  window  lying  in  a 
yellow  patch  across  the  road ;  and  there 
was  Hoolie's  bark  to  welcome  us.  Perhaps 
if  I  had  not  been  wet  and  cold  I  might  have 
made  an  attempt  to  get  away ;  and  I  knew 
the  preventives  were  too  close  to  us  for 
Marah  to  have  lingered,  had  I  done  so. 

But  you  must  remember  that  we  were 
riding  very  fast,  that  I  was  very  young,  and 
very  much  afraid  of  Marah,  and  that  the 
cold  and  the  fear  of  the  preventives  (for  in  a 
way  I  was  horribly  frightened  by  them)  had 
numbed  my  brain. 

1  Don't  you  try  it,1  said  Marah,  grimly,  as 
we  came  within  sight  of  the  house.  '  Don't 
you  try  it.'  He  snatched  my  rein,  bending 
forward  on  his  horse's  neck,  calling  a  wild, 
queer  cry.  It  was  one  of  the  gipsy  horse- 
calls,  and  at  the  sound  of  it  the  horses 
seemed  to  lose  their  wits,  for  they  dashed 
forward  past  the  house,  as  though  they  were 
running  away.  It  was  as  much  as  I  could 
do  to  keep  in  the  saddle.  What  made  it  so 
bitter  to  me  was  the  opening  of  the  window 
behind  me.  At  the  sound  of  the  cry,  and  of 


146  JIM   DAVIS 

those  charging  horses,  some  one — some  one 
whom  I  knew  so  well,  and  loved  so — ran  to 
the  window  to  look  out.  I  heard  the  latch 
rattling  and  the  jarring  of  the  thrown-back 
sash,  and  I  knew  that  some  one — I  would 
have  given  the  world  to  have  known  who — 
looked  out,  and  saw  us  as  we  swept  round 
the  corner  and  away  downhill. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN    THE   VALLEY 

WE  turned  down  the  valley,  along  the 
coast-track,  splashing  through  the  little 
stream  that  makes  it  so  boggy  by  the  gate, 
and  soon  we  were  on  the  coach-road  gallop- 
ing along  the  straight  two  miles  towards  Tor 
Cross.  Our  horses  were  beginning  to  give 
way,  for  we  had  done  four  miles  at  good 
speed,  and  now  the  preventives  began  to 
gain  upon  us.  Looking  back  as  we  galloped 
we  could  see  them  on  the  straight  road, 
about  two  hundred  yards  away.  Every 
time  we  looked  back  they  seemed  to  be 
nearer,  and  at  last  Marah  leant  across  and 
told  me  to  keep  low  in  my  saddle,  as  he 
thought  they  were  going  to  fire  on  us.  A 
carbine  shot  cracked  behind  us,  and  I  heard 
the  '  zip '  of  the  bullet  over  me. 

A  man  ran  out  suddenly  from  one  of  the 
furze-bushes  by  the  road,  and  a  voice  cried, 

147 


148  JIM   DAVIS 

'  Stop  them,  boys ! '  The  road  seemed 
suddenly  full  of  people,  who  snatched  at  our 
reins,  and  hit  us  with  sticks.  I  got  a  shrewd 
blow  over  the  knee,  and  I  heard  Marah  say 
something  as  he  sent  one  man  spinning  to 
the  ground.  '  Crack,  crack ! '  went  the 
carbines  behind  us.  Some  one  had  hold  of 
my  horse's  reins,  shouting,  '  I've  got  you, 
anyway ! '  Then  Marah  fired  a  pistol — it  all 
happened  in  a  second — the  bullet  missed, 
but  the  flash  scorched  my  horse's  nose ;  the 
horse  reared,  and  knocked  the  man  down, 
and  then  we  were  clear,  and  rattling  along 
to  Tor  Cross. 

Looking  back,  we  saw  one  or  two  men 
getting  up  from  the  road,  and  then  half-a 
dozen  guns  and  pistols  flashed,  and  Marah's 
horse  screamed  and  staggered.  There  was  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  go  to  Tor  Cross,  and 
that  quarter-mile  was  done  at  such  a  speed 
as  I  have  never  seen  since.  Marah 's  horse 
took  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  and  something  of 
his  terror  was  in  our  horses  too. 

In  a  moment,  as  it  seemed,  we  were  past 
the  houses,  and  over  the  rocks  by  the  brook- 
mouth  ;  and  there,  with  a  groan,  Marah 's 
horse  came  down.  Marah  was  evidently 
expecting  it,  for  he  had  hold  of  my  rein  at 


IN   THE   VALLEY  149 

the  time,  and  as  his  horse  fell  he  cleared  the 
body.  'Get  down,  Jim/  he  said.  *  We're 
done.  The  horses  are  cooked.  They  have 
had  six  miles  ;  another  mile  would  kill  them. 
Poor  beast's  heart's  burst.  Down  with  you.1 
He  lifted  me  off  the  saddle,  and  lashed  the 
two  living  horses  over  the  quarters  with  a 
strip  of  seaweed.  He  patted  the  dead 
horse,  with  a  '  Poor  boy,'  and  dragged  me 
down  behind  one  of  the  black  rocks,  which 
crop  up  there  above  the  shingle. 

The  two  horses  bolted  off  along  the 
strand,  scattering  the  pebbles,  and  then, 
while  the  clash  of  their  hooves  was  still  loud 
upon  the  stones,  the  preventives  came 
pounding  up,  their  horses  all  badly  blown 
and  much  distressed.  Their  leader  was 
Captain  Barmoor.  I  knew  him  by  his  voice. 

'  Here's  a  dead  horse ! '  he  cried. 
'  Sergeant,  we  have  one  of  their  horses. 
Get  down  and  see  if  there's  any  contraband 
upon  him.  After  them,  you  others.  We 
shall  get  them  now.  Ride  on,  I  tell  you! 
What  are  you  pulling  up  for  ? ' 

The  other  preventives  crashed  on  over 
the  shingle.  Captain  Barmoor  and  the 
sergeant  remained  by  the  dead  horse. 
Marah  and  I  lay  close  under  the  rock, 


150  JIM   DAVIS 

hardly  daring  to  breathe,  and  wondering 
very  much  whether  we  made  any  visible 
mark  to  the  tall  man  on  his  horse.  Shots 
rang  out  from  the  preventives'  carbines,  and 
the  gallopers  made  a  great  clash  upon  the 
stones.  We  heard  the  sergeant's  saddle 
creak,  only  a  few  yards  away,  and  then  his 
boots  crunched  on  the  beach  as  he  walked 
up  to  the  dead  horse. 

*  No.  There  be  no  tubs  here,  sir/  he 
said,  after  a  short  examination.  *  Her  be 
dead  enough.  Stone  dead,  sir.  There's  an 
empty  pistol-case,  master/ 

'Oh,'  said  Captain  Barmoor.  'Any 
saddle-bag,  or  anything  of  that  kind  ?' 

The  man  fumbled  about  in  the  gear, 
No,  there  was  nothing  of  that  kind — 
nothing  at  all.' 

4  Bring  on  the  saddle,'  said  the  captain. 
'  There  may  be  papers  stitched  in  it.'  We 
heard  the  sergeant  unbuckling  the  girth. 
'  By  the  way/  said  the  captain,  'you're  sure 
the  third  horse  was  led  ? ' 

'  Yes/  said  the  sergeant.  '  Two  and  a  led 
horse  there  was,  sir/ 

1  H'm/  said  the  captain.  '  I  wonder  if 
they  have  dismounted.  They  might  have. 
Look  about  among  the  rocks  there/ 


IN  THE   VALLEY  151 

I  saw  Marah's  right  hand  raise  his  horse- 
pistol,  as  the  sergeant  stepped  nearer.  In 
another  "morneut  he  must  have  seen  us.  If 
he  had  even  looked  down,  he  could  not  have 
failed  to  see  us  :  but  he  stood  within  six  feet 
of  us,  looking  all  round  him — looking  any- 
where but  at  his  feet.  Then  he  walked  away 
from  us,  and  looked  at  the  rocks  near  the 
brook, 

1  D'ye  see  them  ? '  snapped  the  captain. 

4  No,  sir.  Nothin'  of  'em.  They  ben't 
about  here,  sir.  I  think  they've  ridden  on. 
Shall  I  look  in  the  furze  there,  sir,  afore  we 
go?' 

'No,'  said  the  captain.  '  Well,  yes.  Just 
take  a  squint  through  it.' 

But  as  the  sergeant  waddled  uneasily  in 
his  sea-boats  across  the  shingle,  the  carbines 
of  the  preventives  cracked  out  in  a  volley 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  A  shot  or 
two  followed  the  volley. 

'A  shot-gun  that  last,  sir,'  said  the 
sergeant. 

'Yes,'  said  the  captain.  'Come  along. 
There's  another.  Come,  mount,  man. 
They're  engaged.' 

We  heard  the  sergeant's  horse  squirming 
about  as  the  sergeant  tried  to  mount,  and 


152  JIM   DAVIS 

then  the  two  galloped  off.  Voices  sounded 
close  beside  us,  and  feet  moved  upon  the 
sand.  '  Still ! '  growled  Marah  in  my  ear. 
Some  one  cried  out  '  Further  on.  They're 
fighting  further  on.  Hurry  up,  and  we  shall 
see  it.' 

About  a  dozen  Tor  Cross  men  were 
hurrying  up,  in  the  chance  of  seeing  a 
skirmish.  The  wife  of  one  of  them — old 
Mrs  Rivers — followed  after  them,  calling 
to  her  man  to  come  back.  '  I'll  give  it  to 
'ee,  if  'ee  don't  come  back.  Come  back,  I 
tell  'ee/  They  passed  on  rapidly,  pursued 
by  the  angry  woman,  while  more  shots 
banged  and  cracked  further  and  further  along 
the  shore. 

We  waited  till  they  passed  out  of  hearing, 
and  then  Marah  got  up.  *  Come  on,  son/ 
he  said.  '  We  must  be  going.  Lucky  your 
teeth  didn't  chatter,  or  they'd  have  heard 
us.' 

'  I  wish  they  had  heard  us/  I  cried,  hotly. 
i  Then  I'd  have  gone  home  to-night.  Let  me 
go,  Marah.  Let  me  go  home/ 

'  Next  trip,  Jim/  he  said  kindly.  *  Not 
this.  I  want  you  to  learn  about  life.  You 
will  get  mewed  up  with  them  ladies  else,  and 
then  you  will  never  do  anything/ 


IN   THE   VALLEY  153 

Ah/  I  said.  *  But  if  you  don't  let  me  go 
I'll  scream.  Now  then.  I'll  scream.' 

'Scream  away,  son/  said  Marah,  calmly. 
'  There's  not  many  to  hear  you.  But  you'lll 
not  get  home  after  what  you  have  seen 
to-night.  Come  on,  now.' 

He  took  me  by  the  collar,  and  walked  me 
swiftly  to  a  little  cove,  where  one  or  two 
of  the  Tor  Cross  fishers  kept  their  boats.  I 
heard  a  gun  or  two  away  in  the  distance, 
and  then  a  great  clatter  of  shingle,  as  the 
coastguards'  horses  trotted  back  towards  us, 
with  the  led  horse  between  two  of  them,  as 
the  prize  of  the  night.  They  did  not  hear 
us,  and  could  not  see  us,  and  Marah  took 
good  care  not  to  let  me  cry  out  to  them. 
He  just  turned  my  face  up  to  his,  and 
muttered,  *  You  just  try  it.  You  try  it,  son, 
and  I'll  hold  you  in  the  sea  till  you  choke.' 

The  wind  was  blowing  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  coastguards  towards  us,  and 
even  if  I  had  cried  out,  perhaps,  they  would 
never  have  heard  me.  You  may  think  me 
a  great  coward  to  have  given  in  in  this  way ; 
but  few  boys  of  my  age  would  have  made 
much  outcry  against  a  man  like  Marah.  He 
made  the  heart  die  within  you ;  and  to  me, 
cold  and  wet  from  my  ducking,  terrified  of 


154  JIM   DAVIS 

capture  in  spite  of  my  innocence  (for  I  was 
not  at  all  sure  that  the  smugglers  would  not 
swear  that  I  had  joined  them,  and  had 
helped  them  in  their  fights  and  escapades), 
the  outlook  seemed  so  hopeless  and  full  of 
misery  that  I  could  do  nothing.  My  one 
little  moment  of  mutiny  was  gone,  my  one 
little  opportunity  was  lost.  Had  I  made  a 

dash  for  it But  it  is  useless  to  think  in 

that  way. 

Marah  got  into  the  one  boat  which  floated 
in  the  little  artificial  creek,  and  thrust  me 
down  into  the  stern  sheets.  Then  he  shoved 
her  off  with  a  stretcher  (the  oars  had  been 
carried  to  the  fisher's  house,  there  were  none 
in  the  boat),  and  as  soon  as  we  were  clear  of 
the  rocks,  in  the  rather  choppy  sea,  he 
stepped  the  stretcher  in  the  mast-crutch  as  a 
mast,  and  hoisted  his  coat  as  a  sail.  He 
made  rough  sheets  by  tying  a  few  yards  of 
spunyarn  to  the  coat-skirts,  and  then, 
shipping  the  rudder,  he  bore  away  before  the 
wind  towards  the  cave  by  Black  Pool. 

We  had  not  gone  far  (certainly  not  fifty 
yards),  when  we  saw  the  horses  of  the 
coastguards  galloping  down  to  the  sea,  one 
of  the  horses  shying  at  the  whiteness  of  the 
breaking  water, 


IN   THE   VALLEY  155 

A  voice  hailed  us.  *  Boat  ahoy!'  it 
shouted  ;  '  what  are  you  doing  in  the  boat 
there  ? ' 

And  then  all  the  horsemen  drew  up  in  a 
clump  among  the  rocks. 

*  Us  be  drifting,  master,'  shouted  Marah, 
speaking  in  the  broad  dialect  of  the  Devon 
men  ;  *  us  be  drifting.' 

'Come  in  till  I  have  a  look  at  you,'  cried 
the  voice  again.  '  Row  in  to  the  rocks 
here.' 

'  Us  a-got  no  o-ars,'  shouted  Marah,  letting 
the  boat  slip  on.  *  Lie  down,  son/  he  said  ; 
'they  will  fire  in  another  minute.' 

Indeed,  we  heard  the  ramrods  in  the 
carbines  and  the  loud  click  of  the  gun-cocks. 

'  Boat  ahoy ! '  cried  the  voice  again. 
'Row  in  at  once1  D'ye  hear?  Row  in  at 
once,  or  I  shall  fire  on  you.' 

Marah  did  not  answer. 

'  Present  arms ! '  cried  the  voice  again 
after  a  pause ;  and  at  that  Marah  bowed 
down  in  the  stern  sheets  under  the  gun- 
wale. 

'  Fire ! '  said  the  voice ;  and  a  volley 
ripped  up  the  sea  all  round  us,  knocking  off 
splinters  from  the  planks  and  flattening  out 
against  the  transom. 


156  JIM   DAVIS 

'  Keep  down,  Jim  ;  you're  all  right,1  said 
Marah.  '  We  will  be  out  of  range  in  another 
minute/ 

Bang!  came  a  second  volley,  and  then 
single  guns  cracked  and  banged  at  intervals 
as  we  drew  away. 

For  the  next  half-hour  we  were  just  within 
extreme  range  of  the  carbines  and 
musketoons.  During  that  half-hour  we 
were  slowly  slipping  by  the  long  two  miles  of 
Slapton  sands.  We  could  not  go  fast,  for 
our  only  sail  was  a  coat,  and,  though  the 
wind  was  pretty  fresh,  the  set  of  the  tide 
was  against  us.  So  for  half  an  hour  we 
crouched  below  that  rowboat's  gunwale,  just 
peeping  up  now  and  then  to  see  the  white 
line  of  the  breakers  on  the  sand,  and  beyond 
that  the  black  outlines  of  the  horsemen,  who 
slowly  followed  us,  firing  steadily,  but  with 
no  very  clear  view  of  what  they  fired  at.  I 
thought  that  the  two  miles  would  never  end. 
Sometimes  the  guns  would  stop  for  a 
minute,  and  I  would  think,  *  Ah !  now 
we  are  out  of  range,'  or,  *  Now  they  have 
given  us  up.'  And  then,  in  another  second, 
another  volley  would  rattle  at  us,  and 
perhaps  a  bullet  would  go  whining  overhead, 
or  a  heavy  chewed  slug  would  come 


IN   THE   VALLEY  157 

'  pob '  into  the  boat's  side  within  six  inches 
of  me. 

Marah  didn't  seem  to  mind  their  firing. 
He  was  too  pleased  at  having  led  the 
preventives  away  from  the  main  body  of 
the  night-riders  to  mind  a  few  bullets.  c  Ah, 
Jim,'  he  said,  '  there's  three  thousand  pounds 
in  lace,  brandy,  and  tobacco  gone  to  Dart- 
moor this  night.  And  all  them  red-coat 
fellers  got  was  a  dead  horse  and  a  horse 
with  a  water-breaker  on  him.  And  the  dead 
horse  was  their  own,  and  the  one  they  took. 
I  stole  'em  out  of  the  barrack  stables  myself.' 

*  But  horse-stealing  is  a  capital  offence,' 
I  cried.  '  They  could  hang  you.' 

'Yes,'  he  said;  'so  they  would  if  they 
could.'  Bang!  came  another  volley  of 
bullets  all  round  us.  *  They'd  shoot  us,  too, 
if  they  could,  so  far  as  that  goes  ;  but  so 
far,  they  haven't  been  able.  Never  cross 
any  rivers  till  you  come  to  the  water,  Jim. 
Let  that  be  a  lesson  to  you.' 

I  have  often  thought  of  it  since  as  sound 
advice,  and  I  have  always  tried  to  act  upon 
it ;  but  at  the  time  it  didn't  give  much 
comfort. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  we  were  clear 
of  Slapton  sands,  and  coming  near  to  Strete, 


158  JIM   DAVIS 

and  here  even  Marah  began  to  be  uneasy. 
He  was  watching  the  horsemen  on  the 
beach  very  narrowly,  for  as  soon  as  they  had 
passed  the  Lea  they  had  stopped  firing  on 
us,  and  had  gone  at  a  gallop  to  the  beach 
boathouse  to  get  out  a  boat. 

'  What  are  they  doing,  Marah  ? '  I  asked. 

'Getting  out  a  boat  to  come  after  us,'  he 
ansv/ered.  *  Silly  fools !  If  they'd  done 
that  at  once  they'd  have  got  us.  They  may 
do  it  now.  There  goes  the  boat.' 

We  heard  the  cries  of  the  men  as  the  boat 
ground  over  the  shingle.  Then  we  heard 
shouts  and  cries,  and  saw  a  light  in  the 
boathouse. 

'Looking  for  oars  and  sails,'  said  Marah, 
'  and  there  are  none.  Good,  there  are  none.' 

Happily  for  us,  there  were  none.  But  we 
heard  a  couple  of  horses  go  clattering  up  the 
road  to  O'Farrell's  cottage  to  get  them. 

'  We  shall  get  away  now,'  said  Marah. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  out  of  sight  of 
the  beach.  Then  one  of  the  strange  coast 
currents  caught  us,  and  swept  us  along  finely 
for  a  few  minutes.  Soon  our  boat  was  in 
the  cave,  snugly  lashed  to  the  ring-bolts,  and 
Marah  had  lifted  me  up  the  stairs  to  the 
room  where  a  few  smugglers  lay  in  their 


IN   THE   VALLEY  159 

hammocks,  sleeping  heavily.  Marah  made 
me  drink  something  and  eat  some  pigeon 
pie  ;  and  then,  stripping  my  clothes  from  me, 
he  rubbed  me  down  with  a  blanket,  wrapped 
me  in  a  pile  of  blankets,  and  laid  me  to  sleep 
in  a  corner  on  an  old  sail. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   TRAITOR 

THE  next  day,  when  I  woke,  a  number  of 
smugglers  had  come  back  from  their  ride. 
They  were  sitting  about  the  cave,  in  their 
mucldy  clothes,  in  high  good  spirits.  They 
had  been  chased  by  a  few  preventives  as 
far  as  Allington,  and  there  they  had  had  a 
brisk  skirmish  with  the  Allington  police, 
roused  by  the  preventives'  carbine  fire. 
They  had  beaten  off  their  opponents,  and 
had  reached  Dartmoor  in  safety. 

'Yes/  said  Marah ;  'all  very  well.  But 
we  have  been  blabbed  on.  We  had  the 
cutter  on  us  on  our  way  out,  and  here  we 
were  surprised  coming  home.  It  was  the 
Salcombe  cutter  chased  us,  and  it  was  the 
Salcombe  boys  gave  the  preventives  the  tip 
last  night.  Otherwise  they'd  have  been  in 
Salcombe  all  last  night,  watching  Bolt  Tail, 
no  less.  'Stead  of  that,  they  came  lumbering 

160 


A   TRAITOR  161 

here,  and  jolly  near  nabbed  us.  Now,  it's 
one  of  us.  There's  no  one  outside  knows 
anything  :  and  only  half-a-dozen  in  Salcombe 
knew  our  plans.  Salcombe  district  supplies 
North  Devon ;  we  supply  to  the  east  more. 
Who  could  it  be,  boys  ?  ' 

Some  said  one  thing,  some  another.  And 
then  a  man  suggested  '  the  parson  '  ;  and 
when  he  said  that  it  flashed  across  my  mind 
that  he  meant  Mr  Cottier,  for  I  knew  that 
sailors  always  called  a  schoolmaster  a  parson, 
and  I  remembered  how  Mrs  Cottier  had 
heard  his  voice  among  the  night-riders  on 
the  night  of  the  snow-storm  just  before 
Christmas. 

'  No ;  it  couldn't  be  the  parson,'  said  some 
one.  '  No  one  trusts  the  parson.' 

*  I  don't  know  as  it  couldn't  be,'  said  the 
man  whom  they  called  Hankie.  *  He  is  a 
proper  cunning  one  to  pry  out.' 

'  Ah ! '  said  another  smuggler.  '  And, 
come  to  think  of  it,  we  passed  him  the 
afternoon  afore  we  sailed.  I  was  driving 
with  the  Captain.  I  was  driving  the 
Captain  here  from  Kingsbridge.' 

'  He  knows  the  Captain,'  said  Marah 
grimly.  *  He  might  have  guessed — seeing 
him  with  you — that  you  were  coming  to 

L 


162  JIM   DAVIS 

arrange  a  run.  Now,  how  would  he  know 
where  we  were  bound  ? ' 

'  Guessed  it/  said  Hankie.  '  He's  been 
on  a  run  or  two  with  the  Salcombe  fellers. 
Besides,  he  couldn't  be  far  out/ 

1  No,'  said  Marah,  musingly  ;  '  he  couldn't. 
And  a  hint  would  have  been  enough  to  send 
the  cutter  after  us/ 

~^T5ut  how  did  he  put  them  on  us  last 
night  ?  '  said  another  smuggler.  '  We  had 
drawed  them  out  proper  to  Bolt  Tail  to  look 
for  a  cargo  there.  Properly  we  had  drawed 
them.  Us  had  a  boat  and  all,  showing 
lights/ 

'Well,  if  it  was  the  parson  who  done  it, 
he'd  easily  find  a  way/  said  Marah.  'We 
had  better  go  over  and  see  about  it/ 

Before  they  went  they  left  me  in  charge 
of  the  old  Italian  man,  who  taught  me  how 
to  point  a  rope,  which  is  one  of  the  prettiest 
kinds  of  plaiting  ever  invented.  The  day 
passed  slowly — oh !  so  slowly  ;  for  a  day 
like  that,  so  near  home,  yet  so  far  away,  and 
with  so  much  misery  in  prospect,  was 
agonising.  I  wondered  what  they  would  do 
to  Mr  Cottier  ;  I  wondered  if  ever  I  should 
get  home  again  ;  I  wondered  whether  the 
coastguards  would  have  sufficient  sense  to 


A   TRAITOR  163 

arrest  Marah  if  they  saw  him  on  the  roads. 
In  wondering  like  this,  the  day  slowly 
dragged  to  an  end  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the 
day,  just  before  a  watery  sunset,  Marah  and 
the  others  returned,  leading  Mr  Cottier  as 
their  prisoner. 

It  shows  you  what  power  the  night-riders 
had  in  those  days.  They  had  gone  to 
Salcombe  to  Mr  Cottier's  lodgings ;  they 
had  questioned  him,  perhaps  with  threats, 
till  he  had  confessed  that  he  had  betrayed 
them  to  the  preventives  ;  then  they  had 
gagged  him,  hustled  him  downstairs  to  a 
waiting  closed  carriage,  and  then  they 
had  quietly  driven  him  on,  undisturbed,  to 
their  fastness  in  the  cliff.  It  was  sad  to 
see  a  man  fallen  so  low,  a  man  who  had 
been  at  the  University,  and  master  of  a 
school.  It  was  sad  to  see  him,  his  flabby 
face  all  fallen  in  and  white  from  excess  of 
fear,  and  to  see  his  eyes  lolling  about 
from  one  to  another  man,  trying  to  find  a 
little  hope  in  the  look  of  the  faces  in  the 
fast-darkening  cave. 

'Well/  he  said  surlily  at  last ;  'you  have 
got  me.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
to  me  ?  ' 

*  What    d'ye    think   you    deserve  ? '   said 


164  JIM   DAVIS 

Marah.  *  Eh  ?  You'd  have  had  us  all 
hanged  and  glad,  too.  You'll  see  soon 
enough  what  we're  going  to  do  to  you.'  He 
struck  a  light  for  his  pipe,  and  lit  a  candle 
in  a  corner  of  the  cave  near  where  I  lay. 
'You'll  soon  know  your  fate,'  he  added. 
*  Meanwhile,  here's  a  friend  of  yours — one 
you  might  like  to  talk  to.  You'll  not  get 
another  chance.' 

At  this  the  man  grovelled  on  the  cave 
floor,  crying  out  to  them  to  let  him  live, 
that  he  would  give  them  all  his  money,  and 
so  on. 

'  Get  up/  said  Marah  ;  '  get  up.  Try  and 
act  like  a  man,  even  if  you  aren't  one.' 

The  man  went  on  wailing,  '  What  are  you 
going  to  do  to  me  ? — what  are  you  going  to 
do  to  me  ? ' 

'Spike  your  guns,'  said  Marah,  curtly. 
'  There's  your  friend  in  the  corner.  Talk 
to  him/ 

He  left  us  together  in  the  cave  ;  an  armed 
smuggler  sat  at  the  cave  entrance,  turning 
his  quid  meditatively. 

4  Mr  Cottier,'  I  said,  'do  you  remember 
Jim — Jim  Davis  ? ' 

'Jim!'  cried  Mr  Cottier;  'Jim,  how  did 
you  come  here  ? ' 


A   TRAITOR  165 

'By  accident/  I  said;  'and  now  I'm  a 
prisoner  here,  like  you.' 

'Oh,  Jim,'  he  cried,  'what  are  they  going 
to  do  to  me  ?  You  must  have  heard  them. 
What  are  they  going  to  do  to  me  ?  Will 
they  kill  me,  Jim  ?' 

I  thought  of  the  two  coastguards  snugly 
shut  up  in  France,  in  one  of  the  inns  near 
Brest,  living  at  free-quarters,  till  the 
smugglers  thought  they  could  be  sure  of 
them.  When  I  thought  of  those  two  men 
I  felt  that  the  traitor  would  not  be  killed  ; 
and  yet  I  was  not  sure.  I  believe  they  would 
have  killed  him  if  I  had  not  been  there. 
They  were  a  very  rough  lot,  living  rough 
lives,  and  a  traitor  put  them  all  in  peril  of 
the  gallows.  Smugglers  were  not  merciful 
to  traitors  (it  is  said  that  they  once  tied  a 
traitor  to  a  post  at  low- water  mark,  and  let 
the  tide  drown  him),  and  Marah's  words 
made  me  feel  that  Mr  Cottier  would  suffer 
some  punishment :  not  death,  perhaps,  but 
something  terrible. 

I  tried  to  reassure  the  man,  but  I 
could,  say  very  little.  And  I  was  angry 
with  him,  for  he  never  asked  after  his  wife, 
nor  after  H  ugh,  his  son  :  and  he  asked  me 
nothing  of  my  prospects.  The  thought  of 


166  JIM   DAVIS 

his  possible  death  by  violence  within  the 
next  few  hours  kept  him  from  all  thought  of 
other  people.  Do  not  blame  him.  We  who 
have  not  been  tried  do  not  know  how  we 
should  behave  in  similar  circumstances. 

By-and-by  the  men  came  back  to  us.  We 
were  led  downstairs,  and  put  aboard  the 
lugger.  Then  the  boat  pushed  off  silently, 
sail  was  hoisted,  and  a  course  was  set  down 
channel,  under  a  press  of  canvas.  Mr  Cottier 
cheered  up  when  we  had  passed  out  of  the 
sight  of  the  lights  of  the  shore,  for  he  knew 
then  that  his  life  was  to  be  spared.  His 
natural  bullying  vein  came  back  to  him. 
He  sang  and  joked,  and  even  threatened 
his  captors.  So  all  that  night  we  sailed, 
and  all  the  next  day  and  night — a  wild  two 
or  three  days'  sailing,  with  spray  flying  over 
us,  and  no  really  dry  or  warm  place  to  sleep 
in,  save  a  little  half-deck  which  they  rigged 
in  the  bows. 

I  should  have  been  very  miserable  had 
not  Marah  made  me  work  with  the  men, 
hauling  the  ropes,  swabbing  down  the  decks, 
scrubbing  the  paintwork,  and  even  bearing 
a  hand  at  the  tiller.  The  work  kept  me 
from  thinking.  The  watches  (four  hours  on, 
four  hours  off),  which  I  had  to  keep  like  the 


A   TRAITOR  167 

other  men,  made  the  time  pass  rapidly ;  for 
the  days  slid  into  each  other,  and  the  nights, 
broken  into  as  they  were  by  the  night- 
watches,  seemed  all  too  short  for  a  sleepy 
head  like  mine. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  passage,  when 
the  weather  had  grown  brighter  and  hotter, 
I  began  to  wonder  how  much  further  we 
were  going.  Then,  one  morning,  I  woke 
up  to  find  the  lugger  at  anchor  in  one  of  the 
ports  of  Northern  Spain, .  with  dawn  just 
breaking  over  the  olive-trees,  and  one  or 
two  large,  queer-looking,  lateen-rigged  boats, 
xebecs  from  Africa,  lying  close  to  us.  One 
of  them  was  flying  a  red  flag,  and  I  noticed 
that  our  own  boat  was  alongside  of  her.  I 
thought  nothing  of  it,  but  drew  a  little 
water  from  the  scuttle-butt,  and  washed 
my  face  and  hands  in  one  of  the  buckets. 
One  or  two  of  the  men  were  talking  at  my 
side. 

'  Ah ! '  said  one  of  them,  '  that's  nine  he 
did  that  way — nine,  counting  him.' 

*  A  good  job,  too,'  said  another  man.  *  It's 
us  or  them.  I'd  rather  it  was  them.' 

'  Yes/  said  another  fellow ;  '  and  I  guess 
they  repent.' 

The  others  laughed  a  harsh  laugh,  turning 


168  JIM   DAVIS 

to  the  African  boat  with  curious  faces,  to 
watch  our  boat  pulling  back,  with  Marah  at 
her  steering  oar. 

I  noticed,  at  breakfast  (which  we  all  ate 
together  on  the  deck),  that  Mr  Cottier  was 
no  longer  aboard  the  lugger.  I  had  some 
queer  misgivings,  but  said  nothing  till  after- 
wards, when  I  found  Marah  alone. 

*  Marah/  I  said,  '  where  is  Mr  Cottier  ? 
What  have  you  done  to  him  ? ' 

He  grinned  at  me  grimly,  as  though  he 
were  going  to  refuse  to  tell  me.  Then  he 
beckoned  me  to  the  side  of  the  boat.  '  Here/ 
he  said,  pointing  to  the  lateen-rigged  xebec ; 
*  you  see  that  felucca-boat  ? ' 

'Yes/  I  said. 

'  Well,  then/  Marah  continued,  'he's  aboard 
her — down  in  her  hold  :  tied  somewhere  on 
the  ballast.  That's  where  Mr  Cottier  is. 
Now  you  want  to  know  what  we  have  done 
to  him  ?  Hey  ?  Well,  we've  enlisted  him 
in  the  Spanish  Navy.  That  felucca-boat  is 
what  they  call  a  tender.  They  carry  recruits 
to  the  Navy  in  them  boats.  He  will  be  in 
a  Spanish  man-of  war  by  this  time  next 
week.  They  give  him  twenty  dollars  to  buy 
a  uniform.  He's  about  ripe  for  the  Spanish 
Navy/ 


A   TRAITOR  169 

'But,  Marah,'  I  cried,  'he  may  have  to 
fight  against  our  ships/ 

'All  the  better  for  us/  he  answered.  'I 
wish  all  our  enemies  were  as  easy  jobs.' 

I  could  not  answer  for  a  moment ;  then 
I  asked  if  he  would  ever  get  free  again. 

'  I  could  get  free  again,'  said  Marah;  'but 
that  man  isn't  like  me.  He's  enlisted  for 
three  years.  I  doubt  the  war  will  last  so 
long.  The  free  trade  will  be  done  by  the 
time  he's  discharged.  You  see,  Jim,  we 
free-traders  can  only  make  a  little  while 
the  nations  are  fighting.  By  this  time 
three  years  Mr  Cottier  can  talk  all  he's  a 
mind.' 

I  had  never  liked  Mr  Cottier,  but  I  felt  a 
sort  of  pity  for  him.  Then  I  felt  that 
perhaps  the  discipline  would  be  the  making 
of  him,  and  that,  if  he  kept  steady,  he 
might  even  rise  in  the  Spanish  Navy, 
since  he  was  a  man  of  education.  Then 
I  thought  of  poor  Mrs  Cottier  at  home, 
and  I  felt  that  her  husband  must  be  saved 
at  all  costs. 

'Oh,  Marah,'  I  cried,  'don't  let  him  go 
like  that.  Go  and  buy  him  back.  He 
doesn't  deserve  to  end  like  that/ 

'  Rot ! '  said   Marah,   turning  on  his  heel. 


170  JIM   DAVIS 

1  Hands  up  anchor !     Forward  to  the  wind- 
lass, Jim.     You  know  your  duty/ 

The  men  ran  to  their  places.  Very  soon 
we  were  under  sail  again,  out  at  sea,  with 
the  Spanish  coast  in  the  distance  astern, 
a  line  of  bluish  hills,  almost  like  clouds. 


h 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE    BATTLE   ON    THE   SHORE 

WE  had  rough  weather  on  the  passage 
north,  so  that  we  were  forced  to  go  slowly 
creeping  from  port  to  port,  from  Bayonne  to 
Fecamp,  always  in  dread  of  boats  of  the 
English  frigates,  which  patrolled  the  whole 
coast,  keeping  the  French  merchantmen  shut 
up  in  harbour. 

As  we  stole  slowly  to  the  north,  I  thought 
of  nothing  but  the  new  Spanish  sailor.  He 
would  not  be  living  on  crusts,  so  the 
smugglers  told  me ;  and  always  he  would 
have  an  overseer  to  prod  him  with  a  knife  if, 
in  a  moment  of  sickness  or  weariness,  he 
faltered  in  his  work,  no  matter  how  hard  it 
might  be.  But  by  this  time  I  had  learned 
that  the  smugglers  loved  to  frighten  me. 
I  know  now  that  there  was  not  a  word  of 
truth  in  any  of  the  tales  they  told  me. 

At  Etaples  we  were  delayed  for  nearly  a 


172  JIM   DAVIS 

fortnight,  waiting,  first  of  all,  for  cargo,  and 
then  a  fair  wind.  They  were  two  other 
smugglers'  luggers  at  Etaples  with  us.  They 
were  both  waiting  for  the  wind  to  draw  to 
the  south  or  south-east,  so  that  they  could 
dash  across  to  Romney  Sands. 

As  they  had  more  cargo  than  they  could 
stow,  they  induced  Marah  to  help  them  by 
carrying  their  surplus.  They  were  a  whole 
day  arguing  about  it  before  they  came  to 
terms  ;  but  it  ended,  as  we  all  knew  that  it 
would  end,  by  Marah  giving  the  other 
captains  drink,  and  leading  them  thus  to  him 
whatever  terms  they  asked. 

The  other  smugglers  in  our  boat  were  not 
very  eager  to  work  with  strangers ;  but 
Marah  talked  them  over.  Only  old  Gateo 
would  not  listen  to  him. 

'  Something  bad  will  come  of  it/  he  kept 
saying.  '  You  mark  what  I  say  :  something 
bad  will  come  of  it.' 

Then  Marah  would  heave  a  sea-boot  at 
him,  and  tell  him  to  hold  his  jaw  ;  and  the 
old  man  would  mutter  over  his  quid  and 
say  that  we  should  see. 

We  loaded  our  lugger  with  contraband 
goods,  mostly  lace  and  brandy,  an  extremely 
valuable  cargo.  The  work  of  loading  kept 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE  173 

the  men  from  thinking  about  Gateo's  warn- 
ings, though,  like  most  sailors,  they  were 
all  very  superstitious.  Then  some  French 
merchants  gave  us  a  dinner  at  the  inn,  to 
wish  us  a  good  voyage,  and  to  put  new  spirit 
into  us,  by  telling  us  what  good  fellows  we 
were.  But  the  dinner  was  never  finished ; 
for  before  they  had  begun  their  speeches  a 
smuggler  came  in  to  say  that  the  wind  had 
shifted,  and  that  it  was  now  breezing  up 
from  the  south-east.  So  we  left  our  plates 
just  as  they  were.  The  men  rose  up  from 
their  chairs,  drank  whatever  was  in  their 
cups  at  the  moment,  and  marched  out  of 
the  inn  in  a  body. 

To  me  it  seemed  bitterly  cold  outside  the 
inn.  I  shivered  till  my  teeth  chattered. 

Marah  asked  me  if  I  had  a  touch  of  fever, 
or  if  I  were  ill,  or  '  what  was  it,  anyway,  that 
made  me  shiver  so  ? ' 

I  said  that  I  was  cold. 

'  Cold  ! '  he  said.  '  Cold  ?  Why,  it's  one 
of  the  hottest  nights  we  have  had  this 
summer.  Here's  a  youngster  says  he's  cold  ! ' 

One  or  two  of  them  laughed  at  me  then  ; 
for  it  was,  indeed,  a  hot  night.  They 
laughed  and  chaffed  together  as  they  cast 
off  the  mooring  ropes. 


174  JIM   DAVIS 

For  my  part,  I  felt  that  my  sudden  chilly 
fit  was  a  warning  that  there  was  trouble 
coming.  I  can't  say  why  I  felt  that,  but  I 
felt  it ;  and  I  believe  that  Marah  in  some 
way  felt  it,  too.  Almost  the  last  thing  I  saw 
that  night,  as  I  made  up  my  bed  under  the 
half-deck  among  a  few  sacks  and  bolts  of 
canvas,  was  Marah  scowling  and  muttering, 
as  though  uneasy,  at  the  foot  of  the  foremast, 
from  which  he  watched  the  other  luggers  as 
they  worked  out  of  the  river  ahead  of  us. 

'  He,  too,  feels  uneasy/  I  said  to  myself. 

Then  I  fell  into  a  troubled  doze,  full  of 
dreams  of  sea-monsters,  which  flapped  and 
screamed  at  me  from  the  foam  of  the 
breaking  seas, 

I  was  not  called  for  a  watch  that  night. 
In  the  early  morning,  between  one  and  two 
o'clock,  I  was  awakened  by  a  feeling  that 
something  was  about  to  happen.  I  sat  up, 
and  then  crept  out  on  to  the  deck,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  something  was  about  to  happen. 
Our  sails  were  down,  we  were  hardly 
moving  through  the  water,  the  water  gurgled 
and  plowtered  under  our  keel,  there  was  a 
light  mist  fast  fading  before  the  wind.  It  was 
not  very  dark,  in  fact  it  was  almost  twilight. 
One  or  two  stars  were  shining ;  there  were 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE     175 

clouds  slowly  moving  over  them  ;  but  the 
sky  astern  of  us  was  grey  and  faint  yellow, 
and  the  land,  the  Kentish  coast,  lay  clear 
before  us,  with  the  nose  of  Dungeness  away 
on  our  port  bow.  It  was  all  very  still  and 
beautiful.  The  seamen  moved  to  and  fro 
about  the  lugger.  Dew  dipped  from  our 
rigging ;  the  decks  were  wet  with  dew,  the 
drops  pattered  down  whenever  the  lugger 
rolled.  The  other  boats  lay  near  us,  both  of 
them  to  starboard.  Their  sails  were  doused 
in  masses  under  the  mast.  I  could  see  men 
moving  about ;  I  could  hear  the  creaking  of 
the  blocks,  as  the  light  roll  drew  a  rope 
over  a  sheave. 

The  boats  were  not  very  close  to  the 
shore ;  but  it  was  so  still,  so  very  peaceful, 
that  we  could  hear  the  waves  breaking  on 
the  beach  with  a  noise  of  hushing  and  of 
slipping  shingle,  as  each  wave  passed  with  a 
hiss  to  slither  back  in  a  rush  of  foam  broken 
by  tiny  stones.  A  man  in  the  bows  of  the 
middle  lugger  showed  a  red  lantern,  and  then 
doused  it  below  the  half-deck.  He  showed 
it  three  times  ;  and  at  the  third  showing,  we 
all  turned  to  the  shore,  to  see  what 
signal  the  red  light  would  bring.  The  shore 
was  open  before  us.  In  the  rapidly  growing 


176  JIM   DAVIS 

light,  we  could  make  out  a  good  deal  of  the 
lie  of  the  land.  From  the  northern  end  of 
the  beach  an  answering  red  light  flashed; 
and  then,  nearer  to  us,  a  dark  body  was 
seen  for  a  moment,  kindling  two  green  fires 
at  a  little  distance  from  each  other.  Our 
men  were  not  given  to  nervousness,  they 
were  rough,  tough  sailors ;  but  they  were 
all  relieved  when  our  signals  were  answered. 

'  It's  them,'  they  said.  '  It's  all  right.  Up 
with  the  foresail.  We  must  get  the  stuff 
ashore.  It'll  be  dawn  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  we  shall  have  the  country  on  us.' 

'  Heave  ahead,  boys ! '  cried  one  of  the 
men  in  the  next  lugger  as  she  drove  past  us 
to  the  shore. 

'Ay!  Heave  ahead,'  said  Marah,  eyeing 
the  coast. 

He  took  the  tiller  as  the  lugger  gathered 
way  under  her  hoisted  foresail.  While 
we  slipped  nearer  to  the  wrhite  line  of  the 
breakers  along  the  sand,  he  muttered  under 
his  breath  (I  was  standing  just  beside  him) 
in  a  way  which  frightened  me. 

'I  dunno,'  he  said  aloud.  'But  I've  a 
feeling  that  there's  going  to  be  trouble. 
I  never  liked  this  job.  Here  it  is,  almost 
daylight,  and  not  an  ounce  of  stuff  ashore. 
Td  never  have  come  this  trip  if  the  freights 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE  177 

hadn't  been  so  good.  Here,  you,'  he  cried 
suddenly  to  one  of  the  men.  *  Don't  you 
pass  the  gaskets.  You'll  furl  no  sails  till 
you're  home,  my  son.  Pass  the  halliards 
along  so  that  you  can  hoist  in  a  jiffy/  Then 
he  hailed  the  other  luggers.  '  Ahoy  there ! ' 
he  called.  *  You  mind  your  eyes  for  trouble.' 

His  words  caused  some  laughter  in  the 
other  boats.  In  our  boat,  they  caused  the 
men  to  look  around  at  Marah  almost 
anxiously.  He  laughed  and  told  them  to 
stand  by.  Then  we  saw  that  the  beach 
was  crowded  with  men  and  horses,  as  at 
Black  Pool,  a  week  or  two  before.  In  the 
shallow  water  near  the  beach,  we  dropped 
our  killick.  The  men  from  the  beach  waded 
out  to  us,  our  own  men  slipped  over  the 
side.  The  tubs  and  bales  began  to  pass 
along  the  lines  of  men,  to  the  men  in  charge 
of  the  horses.  Only  one  word  was  spoken  ; 
the  word  *  Hurry.'  At  every  moment,  as  it 
seemed  to  me  (full  as  I  was  of  anxiety), 
the  land  showed  more  clearly,  the  trees  stood 
out  more  sharply  against  the  sky,  the  light 
in  the  east  became  more  like  a  flame. 

*  Hurry/  said  Marah.  *  It'll  be  dawn  in  a 
tick/ 

Hurry  was  the  watchword  of  the  crews. 
M 


178  JIM   DAVIS 

The  men  worked  with  a  will.  Tub  after 
tub  was  passed  along.  Now  and  then  we 
heard  a  splash  and  an  oath.  Then  a  horse 
would  whinney  upon  the  beach,  startled  by  a 
wave  and  a  man  would  tell  him  to  *  Stand 
back/  or  *Woa  yer.'  I  caught  the  excite- 
ment, and  handed  out  the  tubs  with  the  best 
of  them. 

I  suppose  that  we  worked  in  this  way 
for  half  an  hour  or  a  little  more.  The 
men  had  worked  well  at  Black  Pool,  where 
the  run  had  been  timed  to  end  in  darkness. 
Now  that  they  had  to  race  the  daylight  they 
worked  like  slaves  under  an  overseer.  One 
string  of  horses  trotted  off,  fully  loaded, 
within  twenty  minutes.  A  second  string 
was  led  down  ;  in  the  growing  light  I  could 
see  them  stamping  and  tossing ;  they  were 
backed  right  down  into  the  sea,  so  that  the 
water  washed  upon  their  hocks. 

'  Here,  Jim,5  said  Marah  suddenly,  stop- 
ping me  in  my  work,  '  come  here  to  me. 
Look  here/  he  said,  when  I  stood  before 
him.  '  It's  getting  too  light  for  this  game. 
We  may  have  to  cut  and  run.  Take  this 
hatchet  here,  and  go  forward  to  the  bows. 
When  I  say  "cut,"  you  cut,  without  looking 
round.  Cut  the  cable,  see  ?  Cut  it  in  two, 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE     179 

mucho  pronto.  And  you,  Hankin  —  you, 
Gateo.  Stand  by  the  halliards,  stretch  them 
along  ready  to  hoist.  No.  Hoist  them. 
Don't  wait.  Hoist  them  now/ 

One  or  two  others  lent  their  hands  at  the 
halliards,  and  the  sails  were  hoisted.  The 
men  in  the  other  luggers  laughed  and  jeered. 

*  What  are   you  hoisting  sail  for  ? '   they 
cried. 

*  Sail-drill  of  a  forenoon/   cried  another, 
perhaps  a  deserter  from  the  navy. 

1  Shut  up/  Marah  answered.  *  Don't  mind 
them,  boys.  Heave  round.  Heave  round 
at  what  you're  doing.  Over  with  them  tubs, 
sons  !  My  hat !  Those  fellows  are  mad  to 
be  playing  this  game  in  a  light  like  this. 
There's  a  fort  within  three  miles  of  us/ 

He  had  hardly  finished  speaking,  when 
one  of  the  men  at  the  side  of  the  lugger 
suddenly  looked  towards  the  beach,  as  though 
he  had  caught  sight  of  something. 

1  Something's  up/  he  said  sharply. 

The  beach  and  the  shore  beyond  were 
both  very  flat  in  that  part ;  nothing  but 
marshy  land,  overgrown  with  tussock  grass, 
and  a  few  sand-dunes,  covered  with  bents. 
It  was  not  a  country  which  could  give  much 
cover  to  an  enemy ;  but  in  that  half-light  one 


180  JIM   DAVIS 

could  not  distinguish  very  clearly,  and  an 
enemy  could  therefore  take  risks  impossible 
in  full  day. 

'  Alot  of  cattle  there,'  said  the  smuggler  who 
had  spoken.  '  It's  odd  there  being  so  many.1 

*  Don't  you  graze  many  cattle  here  ? '  said 
Marah,  looking  ashore. 

4  What !  in  the  marsh  ? '  said  the  man. 
1  Not  much/ 

1  Them's  no  cattle,'  said  Marah,  after  a 
pause.  *  Them's  not  cows.  Them's  horses. 
Sure  they're  horses.  Yes,  and  there's  men 
mounting  them.  They  have  crawled  up, 
leading  their  horses,  and  now  we're  done. 
Look  out  boys  ! '  he  shouted.  '  Look  out ! 
Get  on  board.' 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  whole  shore  seemed 
to  bristle  with  cavalry.  Each  slowly  moving 
horse  stopped  a  moment,  for  his  rider  to 
mount.  There  were  fifty  or  sixty  of  them  : 
they  seemed  to  spread  all  along  the  edge  of 
the  bay  except  at  the  northern  end,  where 
the  line  was  not  quite  closed. 

'  Sentries  asleep,'  said  Marah.  *  This  is  the 
way  they  carry  on  in  Kent.  Yes.  There's 
the  sentry.  Asleep  on  the  sand-dune.  Oh, 
yes.  Time  to  wake  up  it  is.  You  Mahon 
ape.  Look  at  him.' 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE  181 

We  saw  the  sentry  leap  to  his  feet,  almost 
under  the  nose  of  a  horse.  He  was  too 
much  surprised  even  to  fire  his  pistol.  He 
just  jumped  up,  all  dazed,  holding  up  his 
hands  to  show  that  he  surrendered.  We  saw 
two  men  on  foot  secure  his  hands.  That 
was  our  first  loss. 

It  all  happened  very,  very  quickly.  We 
were  taken  by  surprise,  all  unready,  with  our 
men  ashore  or  mixed  among  the  horses,  or 
carrying  tubs  in  the  water.  The  troops  and 
preventives  were  over  the  last  dune  and 
galloping  down  the  sand  to  us  almost  before 
Marah  had  finished  speaking  ;  yet  even  then 
in  all  the  confusion,  as  a  captain  shouted  to 
us  to  'surrender  in  the  name  of  the  King/ 
the  smugglers  were  not  without  resource.  A 
young  man  in  a  blue  Scotch  bonnet  jumped 
on  one  of  the  horses,  snatching  another  horse 
by  the  rein  ;  half-a-dozen  others  did  the  same; 
the  second  string,  half-loaded,  started  as  they 
were  up  the  sand  and  away  at  full  gallop  for 
the  north  end  of  the  bay,  where  no  soldiers 
showed  as  yet. 

It  was  done  in  an  instant  of  time ;  drilled 
horsemen  could  not  have  done  it ;  the  little 
man  in  the  blue  bonnet  saw  the  one  loophole 
and  dashed  for  it.  There  was  no  shouting. 


182  JIM   DAVIS 

One  or  two  men  spoke,  and  then  there  it  was 
— done.  Practically  all  the  horses  were 
lashing  along  the  beach,  going  full  tilt  for 
safety  :  they  galloped  in  a  body  like  a  troop 
of  cavalry.  Two  preventives  rode  at  them 
to  stop  them,  but  they  rode  slap  into  the 
preventives,  tumbled  them  over,  horse  and 
man  and  then  galloped  on,  not  looking  back. 
A  trooper  reined  in,  whipped  up  his  carbine 
and  fired,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  the 
fight.  Then  there  came  a  general  volley  ; 
pistols  and  carbines  cracked  and  banged ;  a 
lot  of  smoke  blew  about  the  beach  and  along 
the  water ;  our  men  shouted  to  each  other  ; 
the  soldiers  cheered. 

In  another  ten  seconds  a  battle  was  going 
on  in  the  water  all  round  us.  The  horsemen 
urged  their  horses  right  up  to  the  sides  of 
of  the  luggers.  The  men  in  the  water 
hacked  at  the  horses'  legs  with  their  hangers  ; 
the  horses  screamed  and  bit.  I  saw  one 
wounded  horse  seize  a  smuggler  by  the  arm 
and  shake  him  as  a  dog  shakes  a  rat ;  the 
rider  of  the  horse,  firing  at  the  man,  shot  the 
horse  by  accident  through  the  head.  I 
suppose  he  was  too  much  excited  to  know 
what  he  was  doing — I  fancy  that  men  in  a 
battle  are  never  quite  sane.  The  horse  fell 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  SHORE  183 

over  in  the  water,  knocking  down  another 
horse,  and  then  there  was  a  lashing  in  the 
sea  as  the  horse  tried  to  rise.  The  smugglers 
cut  at  him  in  the  sea,  and  all  the  time  his 
rider  was  half  under  water  trying  to  get  up 
and  pulling  at  the  trigger  of  his  useless, 
wetted  pistol. 

It  all  happened  so  quickly,  that  was  the 
strange  thing.  In  one  minute  we  were  hard 
at  work  at  the  tubs,  in  the  next  we  were 
struggling  and  splashing,  hacking  at  each 
other  with  swords,  firing  in  each  other's  faces. 
Half-a-dozen  horsemen  tried  to  drag  the 
lugger  towards  the  shore,  but  the  men  beat 
them  back,  knocked  them  from  their  saddles, 
or  flogged  the  horses  over  the  nose  with 
pistol-butts. 

All  this  time  the  guns  were  banging,  men 
were  crying  out,  horses  were  screaming ;  it 
was  the  most  confused  thing  I  ever  saw. 

Marah  knocked  down  a  trooper  with  a 
broken  cleat  and  shouted  to  me  to  cut  the 
cable — which  I  did  at  once.  One  or  two 
men  ran  to  trim  sail,  and  Marah  took  the 
tiller.  At  that  moment  a  trooper  rode  into 
the  sea  just  astern  of  us — I  remember  to  this 
day  the  brightness  of  the  splash  his  horse 
made ;  Marah  turned  at  the  noise  and  shot 


184  JIM   DAVIS 

the  horse  ;  but  the  man  fired  too,  and  Marah 
seemed  to  stagger  and  droop  over  the  tiller 
as  though  badly  hit.  Seeing  that,  I  ran  aft 
to  help  him.  It  seemed  to  me  as  I  ran  that 
the  side  of  the  lugger  was  all  red  with 
clambering,  shouting  soldiers,  all  of  them 
firing  pistols  at  me. 

Marah  picked  himself  up  as  I  got  there. 
1  Out  of  the  way  boy/  he  cried.  Two  or 
three  smugglers  rallied  round  him.  There 
were, more  shots,  more  cries.  Half-a-dozen 
redcoats  came  aft  in  a  rush  ;  someone  hit  me 
a  blow  on  the  head,  and  all  my  life  seemed 
to  pass  from  me  in  a  stream  of  fire  out  at  my 
eyes.  The  last  thing  which  I  remember  of 
the  tussle  was  the  face  of  the  man  who  hit 
me.  He  was  a  pale  man  with  wide  eyes, 
his  helmet  knocked  off,  his  stock  loose  at  his 
throat ;  I  just  saw  him  as  I  fell,  and  then 
everything  passed  from  my  sight  in  a  sound 
of  roaring,  like  the  roaring  of  waters  in 
spate. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

DRIFTING 

WHEN  I  recovered  consciousness,  the  sun  had 
risen ;  it  was  bright  daylight  all  about  us. 
That  was  really  the  first  thing  which  I  saw — 
the  light  of  the  sun  on  the  deck.  I  struggled 
up  to  a  sitting  position,  feeling  great  pain  in 
my  head.  Marah  lying  over  the  tiller  was 
the  next  thing  which  I  saw  ;  he  was  dead,  I 
thought.  Then  I  realised  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  we  had  had  a  fight.  We  were  not 
under  control ;  we  were  drifting  with  the 
tide  up  and  down,  with  our  sails  backing  and 
filling;  up  and  down  the  deck  there  were 
wounded  men,  some  of  them  preventives, 
some  of  them  smugglers — poor  Hankin  was 
one  of  them.  When  I  stood  up  I  saw  that 
I  was  the  only  person  on  his  feet  in  the  boat : 
it  was  not  strange,  perhaps. 

Some  of  our  men  had  gone  with  the  horses, 
others  had  been  in  the  water  when  the  horse- 

185 


186  JIM   DAVIS 

men  first  charged  them  ;  probably  all  of  those 
who  had  been  in  the  water  were  either  killed 
or  taken.  We  had  had  four  men  aboard 
during  the  attack  :  of  these  one  was  badly 
hurt,  another  (Marah)  was  unconscious,  the 
remaining  two  were  drinking  under  the  half- 
deck,  having  opened  a  tub  of  spirits.  When 
I  had  stood  up  I  felt  a  little  stronger  ;  I  heard 
Marah  moan  a  little.  I  tottered  to  the 
scuttle-butt,  where  we  kept  our  drinking 
water  ;  I  splashed  the  contents  of  a  couple  01 
pannikins  over  my  head  and  then  drank  about 
a  pint  and  a  half;  that  made  me  feel  a 
different  being.  I  was  then  able  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  others. 

First  of  all  I  managed  to  help  Marah  down 
from  his  perch  over  the  tiller  :  he  had 
fallen  across  it  with  his  head  and  hands 
almost  touching  the  deck.  I  helped  him,  or 
rather,  lifted  him — for  he  could  not  help  him- 
self— to  the  deck ;  it  was  as  much  as  I  could 
do,  he  was  so  big  and  heavy.  I  put  a  tub 
under  his  head  as  a  pillow,  then  I  cut  his 
shirt  open  and  saw  that  he  had  been  shot  in 
the  chest.  I  ran  forward  with  a  pannikin, 
drew  some  water,  and  gave  him  a  drink.  He 
drank  greedily,  biting  the  tin,  but  did  not 
recognise  me  ;  all  that  he  could  say  was 


DRIFTING  187 

'  Rip-raps,  Rip-raps/  over  and  over  again. 
The  Rip-raps  was  the  name  of  a  race  or  tide 
way  on  the  Campeachy  coast ;  he  had  often 
told  me  about  it,  and  I  had  remembered  the 
name  because  it  was  such  a  queer  one.  I 
bathed  his  wound  with  the  water. 

After  I  had  done  what  I  could  for  Marah, 
I  did  the  same  for  the  wounded  soldier.  He 
thanked  me  for  my  trouble  in  a  little,  low, 
weak  voice,  infinitely  serious — he  seemed  to 
think  that  I  didn't  believe  him.  ( I  say, 
thank  you  ;  thank  you/  he  repeated  earnestly, 
and  then  he  gave  a  little  gasp  and  fainted 
away  in  the  middle  of  his  thanks. 

At  that,  I  stood  up  and  began  to  cry.  I 
had  had  enough  of  misery,  and  that  was 
more  than  I  could  bear.  Between  my  sobs 
I  saw— I  did  not  observe,  I  just  saw — that 
the  lugger  was  drifting  slowly  northward, 
clear  of  Little  Stone  Point,  as  the  smugglers 
had  called  it.  I  didn't  much  care  where  we 
drifted,  but  having  seen  so  much,  it  occurred 
to  me  to  see  where  the  other  luggers  were. 

One  of  them,  I  saw,  was  on  her  course  for 
France,  a  couple  of  miles  away  already  ;  the 
other  was  going  for  Dungeness,  no  doubt  to 
pick  up  more  hands  somewhere  on  the 
Dunge  Marsh.  It  was  like  them,  I  thought, 


188  JIM   DAVIS 

to  go  off  like  that,  leaving  us  to  have  the 
worst  of  the  fight  and  every  chance  of  being 
taken  ;  they  only  thought  of  their  own  necks. 
When  I  saw  that  they  had  deserted  us  with- 
out even  pausing  to  put  a  helmsman  aboard 
us,  I  knew  that  there  was  no  honour  among 
thieves.  There  is  not,  in  spite  of  what  the 
proverb  says.  We  were  left  alone — a  boy, 
two  drunkards,  and  some  wounded  men, 
within  half  a  mile  of  the  shore. 

I  looked  for  the  preventives,  but  I  could 
not  see  them.  Most  of  them  had  gone  after 
the  horses  across  Romney  Marsh.  I  did 
not  know  till  long  afterwards  that  the 
smugglers  had  beaten  off  the  rest  of  the 
party,  killing  some  and  about  twenty  horses, 
and  wounding  nearly  every  other  man 
engaged.  It  had  been,  in  fact,  a  very 
determined  battle,  one  of  the  worst  ever 
fought  between  the  smugglers  and  the 
authorities  on  that  coast.  As  soon  as  the 
fight  was  over,  the  luggers  got  out  from  the 
shore,  and  the  troops  made  off  with  their 
wounded  to  report  at  the  fort,  and  to  signal 
the  Ness  cutter  to  go  in  chase.  At  the 
moment  when  I  looked  for  them  they  must, 
I  think,  have  been  rallying  again.  I  could 
not  see  them,  that  was  enough  for  me. 


DRIFTING  189 

Years  afterwards  I  talked  with  one  of  the 
survivors,  an  old  cavalry-man.  He  told  me 
how  the  fight  had  seemed  to  him  as  he  rode 
in  at  us. 

*  And  d'ye  know,  sir,'  he  said,  '  they  had  a 
boy  forward  ready  with  an  axe  to  cut  the 
cable,  so  I  fired  at  him'  ('Thank  you/  I 
thought) :  '  and  just  as  I  pulled  the  trigger 
one  of  their  men  hit  my  gee  a  welt,  and 
down  he  came  in  the  water,  and  so,  of  course, 
I  missed.  But  for  that,  sir,  we'd  have  got 
them.' 

I  wondered  which  of  the  men  had  saved 
my  life  by  hitting  that  'gee  a  welt.'  I 
wondered  if  he  had  been  killed  or  taken,  or 
whether  he  had  got  aboard  us  afterwards,  or 
whether  one  of  the  other  luggers  had  saved 
him.  Well,  I  shall  never  know  on  this  side 
of  the  grave.  But  it  is  odd  is  it  not,  that 
one  should  have  one's  life  saved  and  never 
know  that  it  was  in  danger  till  twenty  years 
afterwards,  when  the  man  who  saved  it  was 
never  likely  to  be  found  ?  But  I  am  getting 
away  from  my  story. 

I  soon  saw  that  the  current  was  slowly 
setting  us  ashore.  Marah,  with  his  great 
manliness,  had  steered  the  lugger  out  to  sea 
for  some  six  hundred  yards  before  he  had 


190  JIM   DAVIS 

collapsed.  Then  his  fellows,  seeing  him,  as 
they  supposed,  dead,  turned  to  drinking. 
The  lugger,  left  to  herself,  took  charge,  and 
swung  round  head  to  wind.  Since  then  she 
had  drifted,  sometimes  making  a  stern-board, 
sometimes  going  ahead  a  little,  but  nearly 
always  drifting  slowly  shoreward,  flogging 
her  gear,  making  a  great  clatter  of  blocks. 
If  the  soldiers  had  been  half  smart  they 
would  have  seen  that  she  was  not  under 
command,  and  ridden  to  Dymchurch,  taken 
boat,  and  come  after  us.  But  they  had  had 
a  severe  beating,  many  of  them  were 
wounded,  and  they  had  watched  our  start 
feeling  that  we  had  safely  escaped  from 
them.  I  have  never  had  much  opinion  of 
soldiers.  Boys  generally  take  their  opinions 
ready  made  from  their  elders.  I  took  mine 
from  Marah,  who,  being  a  sailor,  thought 
that  a  soldier  was  something  too  silly  for 
words. 

As  we  drifted  I  went  back  to  Marah  to 
bathe  his  Jhead  with  water  and  to  give  him 
drink.  He  was  not  conscious  ;  he  had  even 
ceased  babbling ;  I  was  afraid  that  he  could 
not  live  for  more  than  a  few  hours  at  the 
most.  I  had  never  really  liked  the  man — I 
had  feared  him  too  much  to  like  him — but  he 


DRIFTING  191 

had  looked  after  me  for  so  long,  and  had 
been,  in  his  rough  way,  so  kind  to  me,  that  I 
cried  for  him  as  though  he  were  my  only 
friend.  He  was  the  only  friend  within  many 
miles  of  me,  and  now  he  lay  there  dying  in  a 
boat  which  was  drifting  ashore  to  a  land  full 
of  enemies. 

It  was  a  hateful-looking  land,  flat  and 
desolate,  dank  and  dirty-looking.  The  flat, 
dull,  dirty  marsh  country  seemed  to  be 
without  life  ;  the  very  grass  seemed  blighted. 
And  we  were  drifting  ashore  to  it,  fast 
drifting  ashore  to  the  tune  of  the  two 
drunkards : 

*  There  was  a  ship,  and  a  ship  of  fame : 

Away,  ho  !  Rise  and  shine. 
There  was  a  ship,  and  a  ship  of  fame, 
So  rise  and  shine,  my  buck  o  boy.' 

A  ship  manned  by  such  a  crew  was  hardly 
a  ship  of  fame,  I  thought.  Then  it  occurred 
to  me  that  if  she  went  ashore  I  might  escape 
from  her,  might  even  get  safely  home,  or  at 
least  get  to  London  (I  had  no  notion  how 
far  London  might  be),  where  I  thought  that 
the  Lord  Mayor,  of  whom  I  had  often  heard 
as  a  great  man,  would  send  me  home.  I  had 
a  new  half-crown  in  my  pocket ;  that  would 
be  enough  to  keep  me  in  food  on  the  road,  I 


192  JIM   DAVIS 

thought.  And  then,  just  as  I  thought  that, 
a  little  coast-current  spun  us  in  very  rapidly, 
helped  by  the  wind,  for  about  two  hundred 
yards.  This  brought  us  very  close  to  the 
shore,  but  not  quite  near  enough  for  me, 
who  had  no  great  wish  to  start  my  journey 
wet  through. 

I  gave  Marah  a  last  sip  of  water,  left  a 
bucket  of  fresli  water  and  a  pannikin  close  to 
him,  in  case  he  should  recover  (I  never 
thought  he  would),  and  then  began  to  make 
up  a  little  parcel  of  things  to  take  with  me. 
I  was  wearing  the  clothes  of  a  ship's  boy, 
canvas  trousers,  thick  blucher  shoes,  a  rough 
check  shirt,  and  a  straw  hat.  My  own 
clothes — the  clothes  which  I  had  worn  when 
I  scrambled  down  the  fox's  earth  —  were 
forward,  under  the  half  deck.  I  went  to 
fetch  them,  and  got  them  safely,  though  the 
drunkards  tried  to  stop  me,  and  said  that 
they  only  wanted  me  to  sing  them  a  song  to 
be  as  happy  as  kings.  However,  I  got 
away  from  them,  and  carried  my  belongings 
aft.  I  then  took  the  tarpaulin  boat-rug, 
which  covered  our  little  Norwegian  pram  or 
skiff,  on  its  chocks  between  the  masts.  It 
was  rather  too  large  for  my  purpose,  so  I  cut 
it  in  two,  using  the  one  half  as  a  bundle- 


DRIFTING  193 

cover.     The  other  half  would  make  a  sort  of 
cape  or  cloak,  I  thought,  and  to  that  end  I 
bided  it  and  slung  it  over  my  shoulder.     I 
gave  my  knife  a  few  turns  upon  the  grind- 
stone, pocketed  some  twine  from  one  of  the 
lockers,  lashed  my  bundle  in  its  tarpaulin  as 
ptightly  as  I  could,  and  then  went  aft  to  the 
^provision  lockers  to  get  some  stores  for  the 
^jroad.      I    took   out  a  few  ship's  biscuits,  a 
parge  hunk  of  ham,  some  onions,  and  the  half 
lof  a  Dutch  cheese. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  I  ought  to  eat 
Bbefore  I  started,  as  I  did  not  know  what 
jmight  befall  upon  the  road.  When  I  sat 
jdown  upon  the  deck  to  begin  my  meal,  I 
jsaw,  to  my  horror,  that  we  were  drifting  out 
jagain.  While  I  had  been  packing,  we  had 
Ibeen  swept  off  shore  ;  by  this  time  we  were 
jthree  hundred  yards  away,  still  drawing 
further  out  to  sea.  Looking  out,  I  saw  that 
we  were  drifting  into  a  'jobble'  or  tide-race, 
which  seemed  to  drift  obliquely  into  the 
shore.  This  made  me  feel  less  frightened, 
so  I  turned  to  my  food,  ate  heartily,  and 
took  a  good  swig  at  the  scuttle-butt  by  way 
of  a  morning  draught.  Then  I  undid  my 
parcel,  packed  as  much  food  into  it  as  I 
possibly  could,  and  lashed  it  up  again  in  its 

N 


194  JIM   DAVIS 

tarpaulin.  I  found  a  few  reins  and  straps  in 
one  of  the  lockers,  so  I  made  shoulder-straps 
of  them,  and  buckled  my  package  to  my 
shoulders.  My  last  preparation  was  to  fill  a 
half-pint  glass  flask  (every  man  aboard 
carries  one  or  two  of  these).  Just  as  I 
replaced  its  stopper,  we  swept  into  the 
jobble ;  the  lugger  filled  on  one  tack,  and 
lay  over,  and  the  spray  of  a  wave  came  over 
us.  Then  we  righted  suddenly,  came  up 
into  the  wind  with  our  sails  slatting,  and 
made  a  stern-board. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  land;  the 
shore,  with  its  bent  grass,  seemed  almost 
within  catapult  shot.  I  heard  the  wash  oi 
the  sea  upon  the  beach,  I  could  see  the 
pebbles  on  the  sands  shining  as  the  foam 
left  them.  And  then,  suddenly,  the  lugger 
drove  ashore  upon  a  bank,  stern  first.  In  a 
moment  she  had  swung  round,  broadside  on 
to  the  shoal,  heaving  over  on  her  side. 
Every  wave  which  struck  her  lifted  her 
further  in,  tossing  her  over  on  her  starboard 
side.  I  could  see  that  the  tide  was  now  very 
nearly  fully  in,  and  I  knew  that  the  lugger 
would  lie  there,  high  and  dry,  as  soon  as  it 
ebbed. 

I  made  Marah  as  comfortable  as  I  could, 


DRIFTING  195 

and  called  to  the  drunkards  to  come  with  me. 
I  told  them  that  a  revenue  cutter  was  within 
six  miles  of  us  (there  was,  as  it  happened,  but 
she  was  at  anchor  off  Dymchurch),  and  that 
they  had  better  be  going  out  of  that  before 
they  got  themselves  arrested.  For  answer 
they  jeered  and  made  catcalls,  flinging  a 
marline-spike  at  me.  I  tried  a  second  time  to 
make  them  come  ashore,  but  one  of  them  said, 
'  Let's  do  for  him/  and  the  other  cheered  the 
proposal  with  loud  yells.  ff -Then  they  came 
lurching  aft  at  me,  so  I  just  slipped  over  the 
side,  and  waded  very  hurriedly  ashore.  The 
water  was  not  deep  (it  was  not  up  to  my 
thighs  in  any  place),  so  that  I  soon  reached  the 
sand  without  wetting  my  package.  Then  I 
looked  back  to  see  the  two  smugglers  leaning 
over  the  side,  watching  my  movements. 
One  of  them  was  singing — 

*  There  was  a  ship,  and  a  ship  ot  fame  : 
Away,  ho  !  Rise  and  shine ' 

in  a  cracked  falsetto.  The  other  one  was 
saying,  '  You  come  back,  you  young  cub.' 

But  I  did  not  do  as  they  bid.  I  ran  up 
the  beach  and  as  far  across  the  wet  grass- 
land as  I  could  without  once  stopping. 
When  I  thought  that  I  was  safe,  I  sat  down 


196  JIM   DAVIS 

under  some  bushes,  took  off  my  wet  things, 
and  dressed  myself  in  my  own  clothes.  I 
wrung  the  water  from  the  wet  canvas, 
repacked  my  parcel,  and  seeing  a  road  close 
to  me,  turned  into  it  at  once,  resolved  to  ask 
the  way  to  London  at  the  first  house.  I 
suppose  that  it  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  I  began  my  journey. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    '  BLUE    BOAR  ' 

As  I  stepped  out,  the  adventure,  the  fight, 
Marah's  wound,  all  the  tumult  of  the  battle, 
seemed  very  far  away,  and  as  though  they 
had  happened  to  some  one  else  who  had 
told  me  of  them.  If  my  head  had  not 
ached  so  cruelly  from  the  blow  which  the 
soldier  gave  me,  I  should  not  have  believed 
that  they  had  really  occurred,  and  that 
I  had  seen  them  and  taken  part  in  them. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  close  to  my 
home,  that  I  should  soon  come  to  the  combe 
country,  where  the  Gara  runs  down  the 
valley  to  the  sea,  passing  the  slate  quarry,  so 
grey  against  the  copse.  The  road  was  good 
enough,  though  I  was  not  in  good  trim  for 
walking  after  so  many  days  cooped  up  in 
the  lugger.  I  stepped  forward  bravely 
along  a  lonely  country-side  till  I  saw  before 
me  the  houses  of  a  town. 


197 


198  JIM   DAVIS 

I  thought  that  I  had  better  skirt  the  town, 
lest  I  should  stumble  on  the  coastguards 
and  rouse  their  suspicions.  It  was  too 
early  in  the  morning  for  a  boy  to  be  abroad, 
and  I  had  no  very  satisfactory  account  to 
give  of  myself  in  case  anybody  questioned 
me.  I  knew  that  if  I  said  that  I  had  been 
among  the  smugglers  I  should  be  sent  to 
prison.  I  felt  that  the  magistrate  would 
be  too  angry  to  listen  to  my  story,  and  that 
they  would  perhaps  send  me  to  prison  at 
once  if  they  ever  got  hold  of  me.  Magistrates 
in  those  days  had  a  great  deal  of  power. 
They  were  often  illiterate,  and  they  bullied 
and  hectored  the  people  whom  they  tried. 
I  had  seen  one  or  two  bad  magistrates  at 
home,  and  I  knew  how  little  chance  I  should 
stand  if  I  told  my  unlikely  story  to  a  bench 
in  a  court-house  before  such  men  as  they 
were.  So  I  turned  up  a  small  road  to  the 
right,  avoiding  the  town,  where,  as  I  could 
see,  a  good  deal  of  bustle  was  stirring ; 
indeed,  the  streets  were  full  of  people. 

By-and-by,  as  the  sun  rose  higher,  I  began 
to  meet  people.  A  few  labouring  men  came 
past  me,  one  of  them  carrying  a  pitchfork. 
I  noticed  that  they  looked  at  me  curiously. 
One  of  them  spoke,  and  said,  '  You  have 


THE   'BLUE   BOAR'  199 

been  in  the  wars,  master  !  So  I  said,  'Yes/ 
and  passed  on,  wondering  what  he  meant. 
After  I  had  passed,  the  man  stopped  to  look 
back  at  me.  I  even  heard  him  take  a  few 
steps  towards  me,  before  he  thought  better 
of  it,  and  went  on  upon  his  way.  This 
set  me  wondering  if  there  were  anything 
strange  about  my  appearance ;  so,  when 
I  came  to  the  little  brook  or  river,  which 
crossed  the  road  a  little  further  on,  I  went 
down  to  a  pool  where  the  water  was  still, 
and  looked  at  my  image  in  the  water.  Sure 
enough,  I  had  an  odd  appearance.  The 
blow  which  the  soldier  gave  me  had  broken 
the  skin  of  my  scalp,  not  badly,  but  enough 
to  make  an  ugly  scar.  You  may  be  sure 
that  I  lost  no  time  in  washing  my  face  and 
head,  till  no  stains  showed.  I  rebuked  my- 
self for  not  having  done  this  while  aboard 
the  lugger,  when  I  had  splashed  my  head 
at  the  scuttle-butt.  I  felt  all  .the  better  for 
the  wash  in  the  brook ;  but  when  I  took  to 
the  road  again  I  had  a  great  fear  lest  the 
labourers  should  hear  of  the  battle,  and  give 
out  that  they  had  seen  a  wounded  boy  going 
along  the  road  away  from  the  beach. 

After  a  mile  of  lane,  I  came  to  a  high-road, 
past  a  church  and  houses,  all  very  peaceful 


200  JIM    DAVIS 

and  still.  I  passed  these,  and  wandered  on 
along  the  high-road,  thinking  that  I  had 
gone  many  miles  from  the  sea,  though,  of 
course,  I  had  only  gone  a  little  distance. 
When  one  walks  a  new  road,  one  finds  it 
much  longer  than  it  really  is.  I  sat  down 
by  the  roadside  now  and  then,  to  think  of 
plans.  I  felt  that  my  best  plan  would  be 
to  go  to  London,  and  see  the  Lord  Mayor, 
who,  I  felt  sure,  would  help  me  to  get  home. 
But  I  had  not  much  notion  of  where  London 
was,  and  I  knew  that  if  I  went  into  a  house 
to  ask  the  road  to  London,  people  would 
suspect  that  I  was  running  away,  and  so, 
perhaps,  find  out  that  I  had  been  with  the 
smugglers.  I  knew  that  many  people  there 
must  be  smugglers  themselves ;  but  then, 
suppose  that  I  asked  at  a  house  where  they 
were  friends  of  the  preventives  ?  The 
smugglers  had  signs  among  themselves  by 
which  they  recognised  each  other. 

They  used  to  scratch  the  left  ear  with  the 
left  little  finger,  and  then  bite  the  lower  lip, 
before  shaking  hands  with  anybody.  I 
thought  that  I  would  go  into  an  inn  and  try 
these  signs  on  somebody  (on  the  landlord  if 
possible)  and  then  ask  his  advice.  An  inn 
would  be  a  good  place,  I  thought,  because 


THE   'BLUE   BOAR'          201 

the  landlord  would  be  sure  to  buy  from  the 
smugglers;  besides,  in  inns  there  are 
generally  maps  of  the  country,  showing  the 
coaching  houses,  and  the  days  of  the  fairs. 
A  map  of  the  kind  would  show  me  my  road, 
and  be  a  help  to  me  in  that  way,  even  if  the 
landlord  did  not  recognise  my  signs.  And 
yet  I  was  half  afraid  of  trying  these  signs. 
I  did  not  want  to  get  back  among  the 
smugglers.  I  only  wanted  to  get  to  London. 
I  had  that  foolish  belief  that  the  Lord  Mayor 
would  help  me.  I  was  too  young  to  know 
better  ;  and  besides,  I  was  afraid  that  my 
being  with  the  smugglers  would,  perhaps, 
get  me  hanged,  if  I  were  caught  by  one 
of  those  magistrates,  whom  I  so  much 
feared. 

Presently  I  came  to  another  little  village, 
rather  larger  than  the  last.  There  was  an 
inn  in  the  main  street  (the  '  Blue  Boar '), 
so  I  went  into  the  inn-parlour,  and  looked 
about  me.  One  or  two  men  were  talking 
earnestly,  in  low  voices,  to  a  sad-faced, 
weary-looking  woman  behind  the  bar.  She 
looked  up  at  me  rather  sharply  as  I  entered, 
and  the  men  turned  round  and  stared  at  me 
made  a  few  more  remarks  to  the  woman, 
and  went  quickly  out.  I  looked  at  the 


202  JIM   DAVIS 

woman,  scratched  my  left  ear  with  my  left 
little  finger,  and  bit  my  lower  lip.  She 
caught  her  breath  sharply  and  turned  quite 
white ;  evidently  she  knew  that  sign  ex- 
tremely well. 

'  What  is  it  ?  '  she  said,  '  what's  the  news  ? 
There's  been  fighting.  Where's  Dick  ?  ' 

I  said  I  didn't  know  where  Dick  was,  but 
that  there  had  been  fighting,  sure  enough  ; 
and  the  preventives  had  been  beaten  off. 

4  Ah,'  she  said,  'and  the  stuff?  Did  they 
get  the  stuff  off  ? ' 

I  said,  I  believed  that  it  had  got  off  safely. 

*  I  believe  everybody's  bewitched  to-day,' 
she  said,  bursting  into  tears.  '  Oh,  Dick, 
come  back  to  me.  Come  back  to  me.  Oh, 
why  did  I  ever  marry  a  man  like  you  ? ' 

She  cried  bitterly  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  she  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions  about 
the  fight.  One  question  she  repeated  many 
times :  '  Was  there  a  grey  horse  in  the 
second  string  ? ' 

But  this  I  could  not  answer  certainly. 
All  the  time  that  we  were  talking,  she  was 
crying  and  laughing  by  turns.  Whenever 
a  person  entered  (even  if  it  were  only  the 
milkman)  she  turned  white  and  shook,  as 
though  expecting  the  police. 


THE   CBLUE    BOAR'  203 

'  It's  the  palpitation/  she  would  explain. 
'  That  and  the  sizzums.' 

Then  she  would  go  on  laughing  and 
crying  by  turns  until  some  one  else 
came  in.  // 

Presently  the  landlady  looked  at  me  rather 
hard.  '  Here,'  she  said,  'you  are  not  one  of 
them.  You've  run  away  from  home,  you 
have.  What  are  you  doing  here  ? ' 

I  said  that  I  was  on  my  way  to  London. 

*  To  London,'  she  said.  '  What's  a  boy 
like  you  going  to  London  for?  How  are 
you  going  ? ' 

I  said  that  I  was  going  to  walk  there, 
to  see  the  Lord  Mayor. 

'  To — see — the — Lord  Mayor,'  she  re- 
peated. '  Is  the  boy  daft,  or  what?' 

I  blushed,  and  hung  my  head,  for  I  did 
not  like  to  be  laughed  at. 

'  What  are  you  going  to  see  the  Lord 
Mayor  for  ? '  she  asked  with  a  smile. 

I  answered  that  he  would  send  me  home 
to  my  friends,  as  he  was  always  generous  to 
people  in  distress.  She  laughed  very 
heartily  when  I  had  said  this  :  but  still,  not 
unkindly.  Then  she  asked  me  a  lot  of 
questions  about  my  joining  the  smugglers, 
about  my  friends  at  home  (particularly  if 


204  JIM   DAVIS 

they  were  well  off),  and  about  the  money  I 
had  to  carry  me  to  London.  When  I  had 
told  her  everything,  she  said, — 

'  Well,  why  don't  you  write  to  your  friends 
from  here  ?  Surely  that's  a  more  sensible 
plan  than  going  to  London — why,  London's 
seventy  miles.  Write  to  your  friends  from 
here.  They  will  get  the  letter  in  three  or 
four  days.  They  will  be  here  within  a 
week  from  now.  That's  a  wiser  thing  to  do 
than  going  to  London.  Why,  you'd  die  in  a 
ditch  before  you  got  half-way.' 

*  I  shouldn't,'  I  answered  hotly. 

'Well,  if  you  didn't  you'd  get  taken  up. 
It's  all  the  same,'  she  answered.  'You  stop 
here  and  write  to  your  friends.  I  will  see 
that  the  letter  goes  all  right.  I  suppose/ 
she  continued,  '  I  suppose  your  friends 
wouldn't  let  me  be  a  loser  by  you  ?  They'd 
pay  for  what  you  ate  and  that  ? ' 

'  Yes/  I  said,  '  of  course  they  will.' 

'  What's  your  name  ? '  she  said  sharply. 

I  told  her. 

'Oh,'  she  said,  'Jim — Jim  Davis.  Let's 
see  that  shirt  of  yours,  to  see  if  it's  got  your 
name  on.  I  been  taken  in  once  or  twice 
before.  One  has  to  look  alive,  keeping  an  inn.' 

Luckily  my  name  was  upon  my  shirt  and 


THE   CBLUE   BOAR7  205 

stockings,  so  that  she  accepted  my  story 
without  further  talk,  especially  as  the 
contents  of  my  package  showed  her  that 
I  had  told  her  the  truth  about  the  lugger. 

'  I  don't  know  what  Dick  will  say/  she 
said.  *  But  now  you  come  up,  and  I'll  dress 
your  head.  You'll  have  to  lie  low,  remember. 
It  won't  do  for  a  smuggler  like  you  to  be 
seen  about  here.  So  till  your  friends  come, 
you'll  keep  pretty  dark,  remember.' 

She  led  me  upstairs  to  plaster  my  wound. 
Then  she  put  me  into  a  little  bedroom  on 
one  of  the  upper  floors,  and  told  me  to  stay 
there  till  she  called  me.  There  were  one  or 
two  books  upon  the  shelf,  including  a  funny 
one  with  woodcuts,  a  collection  of  tales  and 
ballads,  such  as  the  pedlars  used  to  sell  in 
those  days.  With  this  book,  and  with  a 
piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  I  passed  the 
morning  more  happily  than  I  can  say. 

My  head  felt  quite  easy  after  it  had  been 
dressed  and  bandaged.  My  troubles  were 
nearly  over,  I  thought.  In  a  week  my 
friends  would  be  there  to  fetch  me  away. 
In  three  days  they  would  get  my  letter  and 
hear  all  about  my  adventures  ;  so  as  I  wrote 
I  almost  sang  aloud  ;  I  was  so  happy  at  the 
thought  of  my  sorrows  being  ended.  Mrs 


206  JIM    DAVIS 

Dick  (I  never  learned  her  real  name  till 
some  years  afterwards)  brought  me  some 
bread  and  cheese  at  mid-day.  As  I  ate, 
she  sealed  and  addressed  my  letter  for  me, 
and  took  it  over  to  the  post-house,  so  that 
the  postman  could  carry  it  to  meet  the  mail, 
as  it  drove  past  from  Rye  towards  London. 

After  my  mid-day  meal  I  felt  strangely 
weary  ;  perhaps  all  my  excitements  had  been 
too  much  for  me.  When  Mrs  Dick  came 
back  to  say  that  she  had  posted  my  letter 
I  was  almost  asleep  ;  but  her  manner  was 
so  strange  that  it  roused  me.  She  could 
hardly  speak  from  anxiety  and  terror. 

*  Oh/  she  cried,  ( they  have  raised  the 
whole  country.  My  Dick'll  be  taken.  He 
will.  He  will.  They're  riding  all  through 
the  land  arresting  everybody.  And  they're 
going  to  hang  them  all,  they  say,  as  soon  as 
they  can  give  them  their  trials.' 

She  cried  and  cried  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  I  did  what  I  could  to  comfort 
her,  but  still  she  cried  hysterically,  and  for 
all  that  afternoon  she  sobbed  and  laughed  in 
the  little  upper  bedroom,  only  going  out  at 
rare  intervals,  to  peep  into  the  bar,  where 
her  servant  served  the  guests. 

Towards  five   o'clock,    the  servant  came 


THE   'BLUE   BOAR'  207 

running  upstairs  to  say  that  a  lot  of  the 
smugglers  had  been  taken.  '  A  whole  boat- 
load,' the  girl  said,  so  that  now  it  would  'all 
come  out,  and  master  would  be  hanged.' 
Mrs  Dick  told  her  not  to  talk  in  that  way  of 
her  master,  but  to  find  out  if  any  of  the  men 
had  peached. 

When  the  girl  had  gone  she  seemed  to- 
collect  herself.  She  became  a  different 
woman  in  a  minute. 

'Well,  if  he's  taken,'  she  said,  'they'll  be 
here.  That's  very  sure.  They'll  search  the 
premises.  They  mustn't  find  you  here,  Mr 
Jim.  If  they  find  you,  they'll  question  you, 
and  you  know  too  much  by  a  long  way.' 

*  Shall  I  go?'  I  asked.  '  I'm  willing  to 
clear  out,  if  you  wish.' 

' Go?7  she  said.  'Go?  I  will  turn  no 
poor  boy  out  into  the  road.  I  have  a  boy  of 
my  own,  somewhere  walking  the  world. 
No,  I'll  put  you  in  the  drawing-room. 
Come  with  me,  and  don't  make  a  noise.' 

She  led  me  downstairs  to  the  foot  of  the 
lowest  staircase,  which  was  rather  broad, 
with  high  steps  of  stout  old  oak. 

'  Look,'  she  said,  as  she  stepped  away 
from  me — I  suppose  to  touch  some  secret 
spring — '  this  is  the  drawing-room.' 


208  JIM   DAVIS 

As  she  spoke,  the  two  lowest  stairs 
suddenly  rolled  back  upon  a  sort  of  hinge, 
showing  a  little  room,  not  much  bigger  than 
a  couple  of  barrels,  arranged  underneath 
them.  There  were  blankets  and  a  mattress 
upon  the  floor  of  this  little  room,  besides 
several  packages  like  those  which  I  had 
seen  in  the  lugger. 

'You'll  have  to  stay  here,  Jim/  she  said 
kindly.  '  But  first  of  all  I  must  get  together 
Dick's  papers  and  that.  Come  on  and  help 
me.' 

Very  soon  she  had  gathered  together  a 
few  papers  and  packets  of  tobacco  and  lace, 
which  might  have  brought  Dick  into 
trouble.  She  laid  these  away  in  the  re- 
cesses of  the  secret  room,  and  told  me  to  get 
inside,  and  go  to  sleep,  and  above  all  things 
to  keep  very  still  if  people  came  along  upon 
the  stairs.  I  crept  inside,  rather  frightened, 
and  lay  down  among  the  blankets,  to  get 
some  rest.  Then  Mrs  Dick  swung  the  two 
stairs  back  into  their  place,  a  spring  clicked, 
and  I  was  a  prisoner  in  the  dark,  shut  up  in 
the  drawing-room. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TRACKED 

IT  was  very  dark  in  the  drawing-room  under 
the  stairs,  and  rather  stuffy,  for  the  only 
light  and  air  admitted  came  through  a  little 
narrow  crack,  about  six  inches  long,  and  half 
an  inch  across  at  its  broadest.  There  was  a 
strong  smell  of  mice,  among  other  smells  ; 
and  the  mice  came  scampering  all  over  me 
before  I  had  lain  there  long.  I  lay  as  still  as 
I  could,  because  of  what  Mrs  Dick  had  said, 
and  by-and-by  I  fell  asleep  in  spite  of  the 
mice,  and  slept  until  it  was  dark. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  rolling  back  of  the 
stairs.  As  I  started  up,  thinking  that  I  was 
captured,  I  saw  Mrs  Dick  standing  over  me 
with  a  candle  in  her  hand. 

'  Hush  Jim/  she  said.  'Get  out  quickly. 
Don't  ask  any  questions.  Get  out  at  once. 
You  can't  stay  here  any  longer.' 

1  What  has  happened  ? '  I  asked.      '  Where 

O  *09 


210  JIM   DAVIS 

is  your  husband  ?     Has  your  husband  come 
home  ? ' 

'Yes,'  she  said.  'And  you  must  go. 
They're  coming  after  you.  You  were  seen 
in  the  lugger  with  an  axe  in  your  hands.  A 
man  who  passed  you  on  the  road  after,  saw 
you  in  the  lugger.  He  was  with  the  soldiers, 
and  now  he's  given  an  information.  Mary,' 
the  girl,  heard  it  down  at  the  magistrate's, 
where  the  inquest  is.  And  so  you  must  go. 
Besides,  I  want  the  drawing-room  for  my 
Dick.  He  has  come  back,  and  they'll  be  after 
him  quite  likely.  He  was  seen,  they  say. 
So  he  must  lie  low  till  we've  arranged  the 
alibi,  as  they  call  it.  Everybody  has  to  have 
an  alibi.  And  so  my  Dick'll  have  one,  just  to 
make  sure.  Mind  your  head  against  the  stair.' 

I  crawled  out,  rubbing  my  eyes. 

*  Where  shall  I  go  to  ?'  I  asked. 

'Oh,'  she  said.  'Until  we  find  out,  you 
had  better  go  in  the  stable,  in  among  the  feed 
in  the  box,  or  covered  up  in  the  hay.' 

When  she  had  settled  her  husband  safely 
into  the  drawing-room,  she  bustled  me  out 
of  doors  into  the  stable,  which  stood  in  the 
yard  at  the  back  of  the  inn.  She  put  me 
into  a  mass  of  loose  hay,  in  one  of  the 
unused  stalls. 


TRACKED  211 

1  There/  she  said.  '  They'll  never  look 
for  you  there.  Don't  get  hay-fever  and 
begin  to  sneeze,  though.  Here's  your 
parcel  for  you.  It  wouldn't  do  to  leave  that 
about  in  the  house,  would  it  ? ' 

She  wished  me  good  night  and  bustled 
back  to  the  inn,  to  laugh  and  jest  as  though 
nothing  was  happening,  and  as  though  she 
had  no  trouble  in  the  world. 

I  lay  very  quietly  in  my  warm  nest  in  the 
hay,  feeling  lonely  in  that  still  stable  after  my 
nights  in  the  lugger  among  the  men.  The 
old  horse  stamped  once  or  twice,  and  the 
stable  cat  came  purring  to  me,  seeking  to  be 
petted.  The  church  clock  struck  nine,  and 
rang  out  a  chime.  Shortly  after  nine  I 
heard  the  clatter  of  many  horses'  hooves 
coming  along  the  road,  and  then  the  noise  of 
cavalry  jingling  and  clattering  into  the  inn 
yard.  A  horse  whinnied,  the  old  horse  in 
the  stable  whinnied  in  answer.  A  curt 
voice  called  to  the  men  to  dismount,  and  for 
some  one  to  hold  the  horses.  I  strained  my 
ears  to  hear  any  further  words,  but  some  one 
banging  on  a  door  (I  guessed  it  to  be  the  inn 
door)  drowned  the  orders. 

Then  some  one  cried  out,  *  Well,  break  it 
in  then.  Don't  come  asking  me,' 


212  JIM   DAVIS 

After  that  there  was  more  banging,  an 
excited  cry  from  a  woman,  and  a  few  minutes 
of  quiet. 

I  crept  from  my  hiding-place  to  the 
window,  so  that  I  might  see  what  was 
happening.  The  whole  yard  was  full  of 
cavalry.  A  couple  of  troopers  were  holding 
horses  quite  close  to  the  door.  By  listening 
carefully,  I  could  hear  what  they  were 
saying. 

'  Yes,'  said  one  of  them  ;  *  I  got  a  proper 
lick  myself.  I  shan't  mind  if  they  do  get 
caught.  They  say  there's  some  of  them 
caught  in  a  boat/ 

'  Yes,1  said  his  mate  ;  *  three.  And  they  do 
say  we  shall  find  a  boy  here  as  well  as  the 
other  fellow.  There  was  a  boy  aboard  all 
night.  And  he's  been  tracked  here.  He's 
as  good  as  caught,  I  reckon.1 

'  I  suppose  they'll  all  be  hanged  ? '  said  the 
first. 

'Yes,'  said  the  other.  'Won't  be  no 
defence  for  them.  Neck  or  nothing.  Hey  ?' 

Then  they  passed  out  of  earshot,  leading 
their  horses.  I  was  so  horribly  scared  that 
I  was  almost  beside  myself.  What  could 
I  do  ?  Where  could  I  go  ?  Where  could 
I  hide  ?  The  only  door  and  window  opened 


TRACKED  213 

on  to  the  courtyard.  The  loft  was  my  only 
chance.  I  snatched  up  my  parcel,  and  ran 
to  the  little  ladder  (nailed  to  the  wall)  which 
led  to  the  loft,  and  climbed  up  as  though  the 
hounds  were  after  me. 

Even  in  the  loft  I  was  not  much  better  off. 
There  was  a  heap  of  hay  and  a  few  bundles 
of  straw  lying  at  one  end,  and  two  great 
swing-doors,  opening  on  to  the  courtyard, 
through  which  the  hay  and  straw  had  been 
passed  to  shelter.  It  was  plainly  useless 
to  lie  down  in  the  straw.  That  would  be 
the  first  place  searched.  I  should  be  caught 
at  once  if  I  hid  among  the  straw.  Then  it 
occurred  to  me  that  the  loft  must  lead  to  a 
pigeon-house.  I  had  seen  a  pigeon-house 
above  and  at  one  end  of  the  stable,  and 
I  judged  that  the  loft  would  communicate 
with  it.  It  was  not  very  light,  but,  by 
groping  along  the  end  wall,  I  came  to  a 
little  latched  door  leading  to  another  little 
room.  This  was  the  pigeon-house,  and 
as  I  burst  into  it,  closing  the  door  behind 
me,  the  many  pigeons  rustled  and  stirred 
upon  their  nests  and  perches. 

It  was  darker  in  the  pigeon-house  than  in 
the  loft,  but  I  could  see  that  the  place  was 
bigger  than  the  loft  itself,  and  this  gave  me 


214  JIM   DAVIS 

hope  that  there  would  be  an  opening  at  the 
back  of  it  away  from  the  yard.  I  had  not 
much  time,  I  knew,  because  the  troopers 
were  already  trying  to  open  the  stable-door 
below  me.  I  could  hear  them  pounding 
and  grumbling.  Just  as  I  heard  them  say, 
(  That's  it.  The  bar  lifts  up.  There  you 
are  * — showing  that  they  had  found  how  to 
open  the  door — I  came  to  a  little  door  at 
the  back,  a  little  rotten  door,  locked  and 
bolted  with  rusty  cobwebbed  iron.  Very 
cautiously  I  turned  the  lock  and  drew  the 
bolts  back.  The  latch  creaked  under  my 
thumb  for  the  first  time  in  many  years. 
I  was  outside  the  door  on  a  little,  rotten, 
wooden  landing,  from  which  a  flight  of 
wooden  steps  led  downward.  I  saw  beyond 
me  a  few  farm-buildings,  a  byre,  several 
pigsties,  and  three  disused  waggons.  Voices 
sounded  in  the  stable  as  I  climbed  down  the 
steps.  I  heard  a  man  say,  '  He  might  be  in 
the  loft.  We  might  look  there.'  And  then 
I  touched  the  ground,  and  scurried  quickly 
past  the  shelters  to  the  outer  wall. 

Happily  for  me,  the  wall  was  well-grown 
with  ivy,  so  that  I  could  climb  to  the  top. 
There  was  a  six-foot  drop  on  the  far  side 
into  a  lane ;  but  it  was  now  neck  or  nothing, 


TRACKED  215 

so  I  let  myself  go.  I  came  down  with  a 
crack  which  made  my  teeth  rattle,  my  parcel 
spun  away  into  a  bed  of  nettles,  and  I  got 
well  stung  in  fishing  it  out.  Then  I  strapped 
it  on  my  back  and  turned  along  the  lane  in 
the  direction  which  (as  I  judged)  led  me 
away  from  the  sea.  As  I  stepped  out  on  my 
adventures,  I  heard  the  ordered  trample  of 
horses  leaving  the  inn -yard  together  to  seek 
elsewhere.  The  lane  soon  ended  at  a  stile, 
which  led  into  a  field.  I  saw  a  barn  or  shed 
just  beyond  the  stile,  and  in  the  shed  there 
was  a  heap  of  hay,  which  smelt  a  little  mouldy. 
I  lay  down  upon  it,  determined  to  wake  early, 
and  creep  back  to  the  inn  before  anybody 
stirred  in  the  village. 

'Ah,  well/  I  said  to  myself  before  I  fell 
asleep,  '  in  a  week's  time  they  will  be  here  to 
take  me  home.  Then  my  troubles  will  be 
over/ 

I  remember  that  all  my  fear  of  the  troops 
was  gone.  I  felt  so  sure  that  all  would  be 
well  in  the  morning.  So,  putting  my  parcel 
under  my  head  as  a  pillow,  I  snuggled  down 
into  the  hay,  and  very  soon  fell  asleep. 

I  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  the 
entrance  of  an  old  cart-horse,  who  came  to 
smell  at  the  hay,  It  was  light  enough  to  see 


216  JIM   DAVIS 

where  I  was  going,  so  I  opened  my  knapsack 
and  made  a  rough  breakfast  before  setting 
out.  Overnight  I  had  planned  to  go  back  to 
the  inn.  In  the  cool  of  the  morning  that  plan 
did  not  seem  so  very  wise  as  I  had  thought 
it.  I  was  almost  afraid  to  put  it  into  practice. 
However,  I  went  back  along  the  lane.  With 
some  trouble,  I  got  over  the  tall  brick  wall 
down  which  I  had  dropped  the  night  before. 
Then  I  climbed  up  to  the  pigeon-house,  down 
the  loft-ladder,  into  the  inn-yard,  to  the 
broken  back  door  of  the  tavern.  The  door 
hung  from  one  hinge,  with  its  lower  panels 
kicked  in  just  as  the  soldiers  had  left  it.  The 
inn  was  open  to  anybody  who  cared  to  enter. 
I  entered  cautiously,  half  expecting  to  find 
a  few  soldiers  billeted  there.  But  the  place 
was  empty.  I  went  from  room  to  room, 
finding  no  one  ;  Mrs  Dick  seemed  to  have 
disappeared.  One  of  the  rooms  was  in  dis- 
order. A  few  broken  glasses  were  on  the 
floor  ;  a  chair  lay  on  its  side  under  the  table. 
I  went  upstairs.  I  tapped  at  the  outside  of 
the  drawing-room.  No  answer  there ;  all 
was  still  there.  I  listened  attentively  for 
some  sound  of  breathing  ;  none  came.  No 
one  was  inside.  I  went  all  over  the  house. 
No  one  was  there.  I  was  alone  in  the  '  Blue 


TRACKED  217 

Boar/  the  only  person  in  the  house.  I  could 
only  guess  that  Mr  and  Mrs  Dick  had  been 
arrested.  To  be  sure  they  might  have  run 
away  together  during  the  night.  I  did  not 
quite  know  what  to  think. 

In  my  wanderings,  I  came  to  the  bar, 
which  I  found  in  great  disorder ;  the  bench 
was  upset,  jugs  and  glasses  were  scattered  on 
the  floor,  and  the  blinds  had  not  been  pulled 
up.  Although  I  had  some  fear  of  being  seen 
from  outside,  I  pulled  up  the  blinds  to  let  in 
a  little  light,  so  that  I  might  look  at  the 
coaching- map  which  hung  at  one  end  of  the 
bar.  When  I  passed  behind  the  bar  to 
trace  out  for  myself  the  road  to  London,  I 
saw  an  open  book  lying  on  a  shelf  among  the 
bottles.  It  was  a  copy  of  Captain  Johnson's 
Lives  of  the  Highwaymen  and  Pirates,  lying 
open  at  the  life  of  Captain  Roberts,  the 
famous  pirate  of  Whydah.  Someone  must 
have  been  reading  it  when  the  soldiers 
entered. 

I  looked  at  it  curiously,  for  it  was  open  at 
the  portrait  of  Roberts.  Underneath  the 
portrait  were  a  few  words  written  in  pencil 
in  a  clumsy  scrawl.  I  read  them  over, 
expecting  some  of  the  ordinary  schoolboy 
nonsense. 


218  JIM   DAVIS 

'Captain  Roberts  was  a  bad  one.  Jim. 
Don't  come  back  here.  The  lobsters  is 
around.'  That  was  all  the  message.  But  I 
saw  at  once  that  it  was  meant  for  me  ;  that 
Mrs  Dick,  knowing  that  I  should  come  back, 
had  done  her  best  to  leave  a  warning  for  me. 
'  Lobsters,'  I  knew,  was  the  smugglers' 
slang  for  soldiers;  and  if  the  lobsters  were 
dangerous  to  me  it  was  plain  that  I  was 
wanted  for  my  innocent  share  in  the  fight. 
I  looked  through  the  book  for  any  further 
message :  but  there  was  no  other  entry, 
except  a  brief  pencilled  memorandum  of  what 
some  one  had  paid  for  groceries  many  years 
before,  at  some  market  town  not  named. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE    ROAD   TO    LONDON 

You  may  be  sure  that  I  lost  no  time  in 
leaving  the  inn.  I  merely  noted  the  way  to 
London  from  the  coaching-map  and  hurried 
out,  repeating  the  direction  so  that  I  should 
not  forget.  It  was  a  bright,  cool  morning : 
and  I  walked  very  briskly  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  when  I  sat  down  to  rest  by  the  road- 
side, under  a  patch  of  willows,  which  grew 
about  a  little  bubbling  brook.  Presently  I 
saw  that  a  little  way  ahead  of  me  were  three 
gipsy-looking  people  (a  boy  with  his  father 
and  mother)  sitting  by  the  road  resting. 
They  got  up,  after  I  had  been  there  for 
twenty  minutes  or  so,  and  came  along  the 
road  towards  me,  bowed  under  their  bundles. 
I  got  up,  too,  intending  to  continue  my 
journey  ;  but  when  I  was  about  to  pass  them, 
the  man  drew  up  in  front  of  me. 

*  Beg  your  pardon,  young  master/  he  said  ; 


220  JIM   DAVIS 

*  but  could  you  tell  me  the  way  to  Big  Ben  ? ' 

'But  that's  in  London,'  I  said.  'That's 
in  London,  at  the  House  of  Parliament.' 

1  What ! '  he  cried.  '  You  don't  mean  to  tell 
me  that  us  have  come  the  wrong  road  ? ' 

'Yes,'  I  said.  'You're  going  the  wrong 
way  for  London.' 

'  Then  take  that,'  cried  the  man,  giving  me 
a  shove,  just  as  the  woman  flung  her  shawl 
over  my  head.  I  stepped  back,  for  the  shove 
was  no  light  one  ;  but  just  behind  me  the 
boy  had  crouched  on  all  fours  (he  had 
evidently  practised  the  trick)  so  that  I  went 
headlong  over  him,  and  had  a  nasty  fall  into 
the  road. 

'Stop  his  mouth,  Martha,' said  the  man: 
and  stop  it  she  did,  with  her  ragged  old 
shawl,  in  which  she  had  evidently  carried 
the  provisions  of  the  gang. 

'  What's  he  got  on  him  ? '  said  the  woman, 
as  the  man  rummaged  through  my  pockets. 

'  Only  a  prince  and  a  chive,'  said  the  man, 
disgustedly,  meaning  my  half-crown  and  a 
jack-knife. 

'  Well,'  said  the  woman,  '  his  jacket's  better 
than  Bill's,  and  we'll  have  his  little  portmanteau, 
what's  more.' 

In    another    minute    they   had    my    suit 


THE   ROAD   TO   LONDON     221 

stripped  from  me  ;  and  I  had  the  sight  of 
dirty  little  Bill,  the  tramper's  boy,  putting 
on  my  things. 

'Here/  said  the  woman.  'You  put  on 
Bill's  things.  They're  good  enough  for 
you.  And  don't  you  dare  breathe  a  word 
of  what  we  done.' 

1  Yes,'  said  the  man,  as  Bill  buttoned  up  his 
jacket,  and  took  my  little  bundle  in  his 
hand.  'You  keep  your  little  jaw  shut  or 
r\\  come  after  you.' 

'Oh,  Mother,'  said  Bill.  'Don't  I  look 
a  young  swell,  neither  ?  ' 

For  answer,  his  mother  grabbed  him  by 
the  arm,  and  the  three  hurried  away  from 
me  in  the  direction  from  which  I  had  come. 
The  man  looked  back  and  made  a  face 
at  me,  shaking  his  fist.  I  was  left  penniless 
in  the  road.  A  milestone  told  me  that  I 
was  sixty-six  miles  from  London. 

I  was  now  at  the  end  of  my  resources ; 
almost  too  miserable  to  cry.  I  did  not  know 
what  was  to  become  of  me.  I  could  only 
wander  along  the  road,  in  a  dazed  sort  of 
way,  wishing  for  Marah.  I  was  wretched 
and  faint,  and  Marah  was  so  strong  and 
careless.  Then  I  said  to  myself  that  Marah 
was  dead,  and  that  I  should  soon  be  dead, 


222  JIM   DAVIS 

for  I  had  neither  food  nor  money.  The 
smugglers  had  talked  of  shipwrecks  once  or 
twice.  I  had  heard  them  say  that  a  man 
could  live  for  three  days  without  food  or 
drink,  in  fair  weather ;  and  that  without 
food,  drinking  plenty  of  water,  he  could  live 
for  three  weeks.  They  were  very  wild 
talkers,  tobe  sure ;  but  I  remembered  this  now 
and  got  comfort  from  it.  Surely,  I  thought, 
I  shall  be  able  to  last  for  a  week,  and  in  a 
week  I  ought  to  be  near  London.  Besides, 
I  can  eat  grass  ;  and  perhaps  I  shall  find  a 
turnip,  or  a  potato,  or  a  patridge's  nest 
with  young  ones  still  in  it ;  and  perhaps  I 
shall  be  able  to  earn  a  few  coppers  by 
opening  gates,  or  holding  horses. 

I  plucked  up  wonderfully  when  I  thought 
of  all  these  things ;  though  I  did  not  at  all 
like  wearing  Bill's  clothes.  I  felt  that  I 
looked  like  a  dirty  young  tramp,  and  that 
anybody  who  saw  me  would  think  that  I 
was  one.  Besides,  I  had  always  hated  dirt 
and  untidiness,  and  the  feeling  that  I  carried 
both  about  me  was  hateful. 

But  Bill's  clothes  were  to  be  a  great  help 
to  me  before  noon  that  day.  As  I  wandered 
along  the  road,  wondering  where  I  could 
get  something  to  eat  (for  I  was  now  very 


THE   ROAD  TO   LONDON      223 

hungry),  I  came  to  a  turnpike.  The  turn- 
pike-keeper was  cleaning  his  windows,  out- 
side his  little  house.  When  he  saw  me, 
he  just  popped  his  head  inside  the  door,  and 
said  something  to  some  people  inside.  His 
manner  frightened  me  ;  but  I  was  still  more 
frightened  when  two  Bow  Street  runners 
(as  we  called  detectives  then)  and  a 
yeomanry  officer  came  out  of  the  house, 
and  laid  hold  of  me. 

'  That's  your  boy,  sir,'  said  the  turnpike- 
keeper. 

1  Come  on  in  here/  said  the  officer,  '  and 
give  an  account  of  yourself.' 

They  led  me  into  the  room,  where  they 
were  eating  some  bread  and  cheese. 

'  He  doesn't  answer  the  description/  said 
one  of  the  men,  glancing  at  a  paper. 

'  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that/  said  the 
officer.  '  He's  the  exact  height,  and  that's 
the  same  coloured  hair/ 

*  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it/  said  the 
keeper,  *  I  believe  I  saw  that  boy  pass  along 
here  this  morning,  along  of  two  trampers. 
That  coat  with  the  pocket  torn.  Yes,  and 
red  lining  showing.  I  thought  I'd  seen  them/ 

'Well,  boy/  said  the  officer,  ' what's 
your  name  ? ' 


224  JIM   DAVIS 

'Jim  Davis,'  I  answered. 

'What  were  you  doing  with  the  two 
trampers,  Jim?'  he  asked. 

'  Please,  sir,'  I  said,  '  I  wasn't  doing 
anything  with  them.' 

'Ah,'  said  one  of  the  runners.  'These 
young  rogues  is  that  artful,  they  never 
do  nothing  anywhere.' 

'You'll  live  to  be  hanged,  I  know,' 
said  the  other  runner. 

'  What  were  you  doing  with  the  smugglers?' 
asked  the  officer  suddenly,  staring  hard  at 
my  face,  to  watch  for  any  change  of  expression. 

But  I  was  ready  for  him.  A  boy  is  often 
better  able  to  keep  his  countenance  than 
a  grown  man.  With  masters,  and  aunts, 
and  game-keepers  all  down  upon  him,  he 
lives  a  hunted  life.  He  gets  lots  of  practice 
in  keeping  his  countenance.  A  grown  man 
often  gets  very  little. 

'  What  smugglers,  sir  ? '  I  asked  as  boldly 
as  I  could. 

'The  men  you  sailed  with  from  Etaples,' 
said  the  officer. 

'  Sailed  with  ? '  I  asked,  feeling  that  I  was 
done  for. 

'  Didn't  the  horses  splash  about,  when  you 
cut  the  cable  ?  '  said  the  officer,  with  a  smile. 


THE  ROAD   TO   LONDON     225 

This  time  I  thought  I  had  better  not 
answer.  I  looked  as  puzzled  as  I  could,  and 
looked  from  one  face  to  the  other,  as  though 
for  enlightenment. 

1  Now,  Jim/  said  one  of  the  runners.  '  It's 
no  good.  Tell  us  all  about  the  smugglers, 
and  we'll  let  you  go.' 

'  We  know  you're  the  boy  we  want,'  said 
the  captain.  '  Make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and 
perhaps  you  will  get  off  with  transportation. 

'  Now  don't  look  so  innocent,'  said  the 
other  runner.  '  Tell  us  what  wre  want  to 
know,  or  we'll  make  you.' 

Now  somewhere  I  had  read  that  the  police 
bullied  suspected  persons  in  this  way.  If 
you  make  a  guilty  person  believe  that  you 
know  him  to  be  guilty,  you  can  also  get  him 
to  confess  if  you  startle  him  sufficiently.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  this  was  what  these 
men  were  doing,  especially  as  they  had  not 
been  sure  of  me  when  I  came  into  the 
room. 

I  had  some  twenty  or  thirty  seconds  in 
which  to  think  of  an  answer  ;  for  the  three 
men  spoke  one  after  the  other,  without 
giving  me  a  chance  to  speak.  I  shook  my 
head,  putting  on  a  puzzled  look. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir/  I  said,  speaking 
p 


226  JIM   DAVIS 

rather  roughly,  in  the  accent  which  Bill  had 
used.  '  I  think  there's  some  mistake/ 

1  Oh,  I  think  not/  said  the  officer. 
1  Suppose  I  tell  you  how  many  men  were  in 
the  lugger  ? ' 

But  here  we  were  stopped  by  the  arrival  of 
a  chaise  outside.  A  man  entered  hurriedly. 

'  It's  all  right,  Gray/  the  new-comer  called 
to  the  officer.  'We  have  the  boy.  We 
caught  him  back  there,  along  the  road,  with 
a  couple  of  gipsies.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
about  it.  The  clothes  and  bundle  are  just 
as  they're  described  in  the  advertisement. 
Who  have  you  here  ? ' 

'Oh,  a  boy  we  brought  in  on  suspicion/ 
said  the  officer.  '  Shall  we  let  him  go  ? ' 

'  Well,  who  is  he  ? '  asked  the  new  arrival. 
1  Eh,  boy  ?  Who  are  you  ? ' 

*  A  poor  boy,'  I  answered. 

'  How  do  you  make  a  living?'  he  asked. 
'  Little  boys,  like  you,  oughtn't  to  be  about 
on  the  roads  you  know.  What  d'ye  do  for  a 
living  ? 9 

I  am  afraid  it  was  rather  a  bold  statement ; 
but  I  cried  out  that  I  could  sing  ballads. 

'  Oh,  Jim.  So  you  sing  ballads,  do  you  ? ' 
said  the  officer.  '  Get  on  to  that  chair  and 
sing  us  a  ballad/ 


THE   ROAD   TO   LONDON     227 

But  I  was  cunning  and  wary.  *  Please, 
sir/  I  said,  '  I'm  very  hungry.  I  don't  sing, 
except  for  my  dinner  and  a  sixpence/ 

'  So  you  defy  the  law  already,  do  you  ? ' 
said  the  new-comer.  'Well.  Eat  some 
bread  and  cheese,  and  I  will  give  you 
sixpence  for  a  song/ 

So  I  sat  down  very  thankfully,  and  made 
a  good  dinner  at  the  table.  I  pretended  to 
pay  no  attention  to  the  officers ;  but  really 
I  listened  very  eagerly  to  all  that  they  said.  I 
gathered  that  the  new-comer  was  a  coast- 
guard naval  captain,  of  the  name  of  Byrne, 
and  I  felt  that  he  half-suspected  and  half- 
liked  me,  without  thinking  very  much  about 
me  one  way  or  the  other.  When  I  had 
finished  my  dinner — and  I  ate  enough  to 
last  me  till  the  night — I  got  upon  my  chair, 
without  being  pressed,  and  sang  the  ballad 
of  *  The  White  Cockade/  then  very  popular 
all  over  the  West  country.  My  voice  was 
not  bad  in  those  days,  and  I  was  used  to 
singing ;  indeed,  people  sang  more  then 
than  they  do  now.  Everybody  sang. 

Captain  Byrne  seemed  puzzled  by  my 
voice,  and  by  my  cultivated  accent.  'Who 
taught  you  to  sing  ? '  he  asked. 

So   I   answered  that   I   had  been  in   the 


228  JIM   DAVIS 

village  choir  at  home ;  which  was  true 
enough. 

'  And  where  was  that  ? '  he  asked. 

For  a  moment  I  thought  that  I  would 
trust  him,  and  tell  him  everything.  Then, 
very  foolishly,  I  determined  to  say  nothing, 
so  I  said  that  it  was  a  long  way  away,  and 
that  I  had  come  from  thence  after  my  father 
had  died.  He  whispered  something  to 
Mr  Gray,  the  other  officer ;  and  they  looked 
at  me  curiously.  They  both  gave  me  a 
sixpenny  piece  for  my  ballad  ;  and  then  they 
went  out.  Captain  Byrne  stopped  at  the 
door.  *  Look  here,'  he  said,  'You  take 
my  advice  and  go  home.  You  will  come  to 
no  good,  leading  this  wandering  life/ 

When  they  had  gone,  I  went  out  also,  and 
watched  their  chaise  disappear.  The  last 
that  I  saw  of  them  was  the  two  top-hats  of 
the  runners,  sticking  up  at  the  back  of  the 
conveyance,  like  little  black  chimneys. 

I  felt  very  glad  that  Bill  was  taken  up, 
evidently  in  mistake  for  me.  It  seemed  a 
fitting  reward.  But  at  the  same  time  I  knew 
that  the  mistake  might  be  found  out  at  any 
moment ;  and  that  I  should  be  searched 
for  as  soon  as  Bill  had  cleared  himself.  I 
walked  slowly  away  from  the  turnpike,  so 


THE   ROAD   TO   LONDON     229 

that  the  keeper  might  not  suspect  me,  and 
then  I  nipped  over  a  stile,  and  ran  away 
across  country,  going  inland,  away  from  the 
sea,  as  fast  as  I  could  travel.  I  could 
tell  my  direction  by  the  sun,  and  I  kept  a 
westerly  course,  almost  due  west,  for  three 
or  four  hours,  till  I  was  tired  out. 

It  was  a  lonely  walk,  too  ;  hardly  anything 
but  wild,  rather  marshy  country,  with  few 
houses,  few  churches,  and  no  bigger  town 
than  the  tiniest  of  villages.  At  about  six 
o'clock  that  afternoon,  when  I  had  gone 
some  sixteen  miles  since  daybreak,  I  felt 
that  I  could  go  no  further,  and  began  to 
cast  about  for  a  lodging-place. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    GIPSY   CAMP 

I  PLODDED  on  till  I  came  to  a  sort  of  copse  or 
little  wood,  where  I  expected  to  find  shelter. 
Supper  I  had  resolved  to  do  without ;  I 
wished  to  keep  my  shilling  for  dinner  and 
breakfast  the  next  day.  As  I  came  up  to 
the  copse  hedge  I  saw  that  some  gipsies  were 
camped  there.  They  had  a  fine  travelling 
waggon  drawn  up  on  some  waste  ground 
near  at  hand  ;  they  had  also  pitched  three 
or  four  beehive  huts,  made  of  bent  poles, 
covered  with  sacks.  They  were  horse-dealers 
and  basket-makers,  as  one  could  see  from  the 
drove  of  lean  horses  and  heap  of  wicker-work 
near  the  waggon.  Several  children  were 
playing  about  among  the  huts.  Some  women 
were  at  their  basket-making  by  the  waggon. 
A  middle-aged  man,  smoking  a  pipe,  stood 
by  the  hedge,  mending  what  looked  like  an 

enormous    butterfly   net.     In    spite   of  my 

330 


THE   GIPSY   CAMP  231 

adventure  on  the  road,  I  was  not  at  all 
frightened  by  these  gipsies,  because  I  liked 
their  looks,  and  I  knew  now  that  I  had  only 
my  shilling  to  lose,  and  that  I  could  earn  a 
dinner  at  any  time  by  singing  a  ballad. 

The  middle-aged  man  looked  rather  hard 
at  me  as  I  came  near,  and  called  out  in  a 
strange  language  to  his  people  in  the  tents. 
They  came  about  me  at  the  call,  and  stared 
at  me  very  strangely,  as  though  I  was  a 
queer  beast  escaped  from  a  menagerie.  Then, 
to  my  great  surprise,  the  man  pointed  to  my 
forehead,  and  all  the  gipsies  stared  at  my 
forehead,  repeating  those  queer  words  which 
Marah  had  used  so  long  before  in  the  gorse- 
clump — '  Orel.  Orel.  Adartha  Cay.1  They 
seemed  very  pleased  and  proud  ;  they  clapped 
their  hands  and  danced,  as  though  I  was  a 
little  prince.  All  the  time  they  kept  singing 
and  talking  in  their  curious  language.  Now 
and  then  one  of  them  would  come  up  to  me 
and  push  back  my  cap  to  look  at  my  hair, 
which  was  of  a  dark  brown  colour,  with  a 
dash  of  reddy  gold  above  my  forehead. 

I  learned  long  afterwards  that  gipsies  held 
sacred  all  boys  with  hair  like  mine.  They 
call  the  ruddy  tinge  over  the  forehead  *  the 
cross  upon  crutches ' ;  for  long  ago,  they  say, 


232  JIM   DAVIS 

a  great  gipsy  hero  had  that  mark  upon  his 
brow  in  lines  of  fire  ;  and  to  this  day  all 
people  with  a  fiery  lock  of  hair,  they  believe, 
bring  luck  to  them. 

When  the  gipsies  had  danced  for  some 
twenty  minutes,  the  elderly  man  (who  seemed 
to  be  a  chief  among  them)  begged  me  (in 
English)  with  many  profound  bows  and 
smiles,  to  enter  their  waggon.  I  had  heard 
that  the  gipsies  stole  little  children ;  but  as  I 
had  never  heard  of  them  stealing  a  boy  of  my 
age  I  did  not  fear  them.  So  I  entered  the 
waggon,  as  he  bade  me,  and  very  neat  and 
trim  it  was.  Here  a  man  produced  a  curious 
red  suit  of  clothes,  rather  too  small  for  me  ; 
but  still  a  lot  better  than  Bill's  rags.  He 
begged  me  to  put  it  on,  which  I  did.  I  know 
now  that  it  was  the  red  magical  suit  in  which 
the  gipsies  dress  their  magical  puppets  on 
St  John's  Eve  ;  but  as  I  did  not  then  know 
this,  I  put  it  on  quite  willingly,  wishing  that 
it  fitted  better. 

Then  we  came  out  again  among  the  huts, 
and  all  the  other  gipsies  crowded  round  me, 
laughing  and  clapping  their  hands  ;  for  now, 
they  thought,  their  tribe  would  have  wonderful 
luck  wherever  they  went.  The  women  put 
a  pot  upon  the  fire,  ready  for  supper.  Every- 


THE   GIPSY   CAMP  233 

body  treated  me  (very  much  to  my  annoyance) 
as  though  I  were  a  fairy  child.  Whenever 
I  spoke,  they  bowed  and  laughed  and  clapped 
their  hands,  crying  out  in  their  wild  language, 
till  I  could  have  boxed  their  ears. 

When  supper  was  ready,  they  brought  me 
to  the  place  of  honour  by  the  fire,  and  fed 
me  with  all  the  delicacies  of  the  gipsy  race. 
We  had  hedgehog  baked  in  a  clay  cover — 
though  I  did  not  much  like  him — and  then  a 
stew  of  poultry  and  pheasant  (both  stolen, 
I'm  afraid)  with  bread  baked  in  the  ashes  ; 
and  wonderful  tea,  which  they  said  cost 
eighteen  shillings  a  pound.  They  annoyed 
me  very  much  by  the  way  in  which  they 
bowed  and  smirked,  but  they  really  meant  to 
be  kind,  and  I  had  sense  enough  to  know  that 
while  I  was  with  them  I  should  be  practically 
safe  from  the  runners  and  yeomanry.  After 
supper  they  made  me  up  a  bed  in  the  waggon. 
The  next  morning  before  daybreak  we  started 
off,  horses,  waggon,  and  all,  away  towards 
the  west ;  going  to  Portsmouth  Fair,  the  man 
said,  to  sell  their  horses. 

I  had  not  been  very  long  among  the 
gipsies  when  I  discovered  that  I  was  as  much 
a  prisoner  as  a  pet.  They  would  never  let  me 
out  of  their  sight.  If  I  tried  to  get  away  by 


234  JIM   DAVIS 

myself,  one  of  the  children,  or  a  young  woman 
would  follow  me,  or  rather,  come  in  the  same 
direction,  and  pretend  not  to  be  following  me  ; 
but  all  the  time  noting  where  I  went,  and 
heading  me  off  carefully  if  I  went  too  far 
from  the  caravan.  Before  the  end  of  the 
first  day  I  was  wondering  how  it  would  all 
finish,  and  whether  they  meant  to  make  a 
gipsy  of  me.  They  were  very  careful  not  to 
let  me  be  seen  by  other  travellers.  When 
the  road  was  clear,  they  would  let  me  follow 
the  caravan  on  foot ;  but  when  people  drove 
past  us,  and  whenever  we  came  to  a  village 
(they  always  avoided  the  big  towns)  they 
hurried  me  into  the  waggon,  and  kept  me 
from  peeping  out.  At  night,  when  we 
pitched  our  camp,  after  a  long  day's  journey 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen  hours,  they  gave  me 
a  bed  inside  the  caravan  ;  and  the  elderly 
chief  laid  his  blankets  on  the  waggon  floor, 
between  my  bed  and  the  door,  so  that  I 
should  not  get  out.  I  lived  with  the  gipsies 
in  this  way  for  three  whole  days. 

I  did  not  like  it  any  better  as  time  went  on. 
I  kept  thinking  of  how  I  should  escape,  and 
worrying  about  the  anxiety  at  home,  now 
that  my  letter  must  have  reached  them.  I 
did  not  think  any  more  about  the  police. 


THE   GIPSY   CAMP  235 

I  felt  that  they  would  give  me  no  more 
trouble  ;  but  my  distress  at  not  being  able  to 
get  away  from  these  gipsies  was  almost  more 
than  I  could  bear.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
third  day  I  made  a  dash  for  freedom,  but  the 
chief  soon  caught  me  and  brought  me  back, 
evidently  very  much  displeased,  and  mutter- 
ing something  about  stealing  the  red  coat. 

About  mid-day  on  the  fourth  day,  as  we 
were  passing  through  a  village,  it  chanced 
that  a  drove  of  sheep  blocked  up  the  road. 
The  caravan  stopped  and  I  managed  to  get 
down  from  the  waggon,  with  my  gaoler,  to 
see  what  was  happening  in  the  road.  The 
sheep  were  very  wild,  and  the  drover  was  a 
boy  who  did  not  know  how  to  drive  them. 
The  way  was  blocked  for  a  good  ten  minutes, 
so  that  I  had  time  to  look  about  me.  While 
we  waited,  a  donkey-cart  drove  up,  with  two 
people  inside  it,  dressed  in  the  clothes  of 
naval  sailors — white  trousers,  blue,  short, 
natty  jackets  (with  red  and  green  ribbons  in 
the  seams),  and  with  huge  clubbed  pigtails 
under  their  black,  glazed  hats.  One  of  them 
was  evidently  ill,  for  he  lay  back  against  the 
back-board  and  did  not  speak.  I  noticed 
also  that  he  had  not  been  to  sea  for  a  long 
time,  as  his  beard  was  long  and  unkempt 


236  'JIM  DAVIS 

The  other,  who  drove  the  cart,  was  a  one- 
legged  man,  very  short  and  broad,  with  a 
thick  black  stubble  on  his  cheeks.  He  was 
a  hearty  person  with  a  voice  like  a  lion's 
roar.  They  had  rigged  up  Union  Jacks  on 
the  donkey's  blinkers,  they  had  a  pilot  jack 
upon  the  shaft,  and  a  white  ensign  on  a  flag- 
pole tied  to  the  back-board.  The  body  of 
the  cart  was  all  sprigged  out  with  streamers 
of  ribbon  as  thick  as  horses1  tails,  and  there 
were  placards  fixed  to  the  sides  of  the 
donkey's  collar.  They  were  clumsily  scrawled 
as  follows  : — 

Pity  the  Braiv  English  Seamen, 

Wonded  in  the  Wars, 
Help  them  as  cannot  help  theirselves, 
We  have  Bled  for  our  nativland. 

Nelson  and  Bronte. 

This  wonderful  conveyance  pulled  up  among 
the  sheep.  The  one-legged  man  stood  up- 
right in  the  cart,  called  for  three  cheers,  and 
at  once  began  to  roar  out  the  never-ending 
ballad  of  the  battle  of  Belle  Isle  : — 

At  the  battle  of  Belle  Isle, 

I  was  there  all  the  while,  etc.,  etc. 

Everybody  clustered  round  to  listen,  and  to 
admire  the  turn-out. 


THE  GIPSY  CAMP  237 

I  could  not  get  very  near  to  the  cart, 
because  of  the  press  ;  but  I  noticed  quite 
suddenly  that  the  sick  man  was  staring  rather 
hard  at  me  from  under  the  rim  of  his  glazed 
hat,  which  was  jammed  down  over  his  eyes. 
The  eyes  seemed  familiar.  There  was  some- 
thing familiar  in  the  figure,  covered  up,  as  it 
was,  with  the  rough  beard,  and  with  a  ship's 
boat-cloak.  It  reminded  me  of  Marah,  some- 
how, and  yet  it  could  not  possibly  be  Marah  ; 
and  yet  the  man  was  staring  hard  at  me. 

A  countryman  came  out  of  an  inn  with  a 
mug  of  drink  for  the  singer,  who  checked  his 
song  at  about  the  hundred-and-fiftieth  stanza, 
to  take  the  mug  with  a  '  Thank  ye,  mate/ 
and  hand  it  to  his  sick  friend.  The  sick  man 
took  the  mug  with  his  left  hand,  opening  the 
fingers  curiously,  and  still  looking  hard  at  me. 
My  heart  gave  a  great  jump,  for  there  were 
three  blue  rings  tattooed  on  one  of  the  fingers. 
The  man  waved  his  mug  towards  me.  '  Hoo, 
hoo,  hoo,'  he  cried,  imitating  an  owl  with  his 
weak  voice.  '  Hoo,  hoo,  hoo.'  Then  he 
clapped  his  right  hand  across  his  mouth  to 
warn  me  to  be  silent,  and  drank,  with  a  bow 
to  the  giver. 

It  was  Marah,  after  all.  At  this  moment 
the  caravan  started,  and  the  man  urged  me 


238  JIM  DAVIS 

to  enter  the  waggon  again.  I  did  so ;  but 
as  I  turned  away,  Marah  smiled  in  an  absurd 
manner  at  me,  and  bowed  three  times,  making 
everybody  laugh.  That  made  me  feel  sure 
that  he  would  help  me  to  escape,  and  to  get 
home  again.  I  could  not  help  laughing  at 
his  trick  of  dressing  up  as  ' a  braiv  English 
seaman,  wonded  in  the  war/  Had  the 
people  known  in  what  wars  he  had  been 
wounded,  they  would  not  have  been  so  free 
with  their  kindness,  perhaps. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  Marah  had  made 
the  owl's  cry  (or  night  signal)  to  show  me 
that  I  might  expect  him  at  night.  So  when 
the  gipsies  went  to  bed  that  night  I  lay 
awake  among  them,  pretending  to  be  fast 
asleep.  It  was  very  dark,  shut  up  in  the 
waggon.  The  gipsies  slept  heavily,  and  I 
could  hear  the  horses  outside,  cropping  on 
the  grass  and  snorting.  Once  or  twice  I 
heard  a  clock  strike  very  far  away.  Then  I 
fell  asleep,  I  think,  in  spite  of  my  excitement. 
I  woke  with  a  start,  because  just  outside  the 
waggon  came  the  wild  crying  of  an  owl : 
and  then,  at  that  instant,  a  banging  of 
guns  and  pistols.  A  voice  cried  out :  '  The 
horses.  Save  the  horses.'  Some  one 
screamed  '  Help !  help  ! '  in  a  falsetto.  More 


THE   GIPSY  CAMP  239 

guns  banged  and  cracked,  and  I  heard  a  rush 
of  hoofs  as  the  drove  of  horses  stampeded. 
The  gipsies  in  the  waggon  rushed  out  as  one 
man  to  save  the  precious  horses.  I  rushed 
out  after  them,  and  there  was  Marah  with 
his  one-legged  friend,  crouched  under  the 
waggon,  waiting  for  me. 

'Well,  Jim,'  he  said;  'nip  this  way, 
quick.  We  have  a  suit  of  clothes  all  ready 
for  you/ 

So  they  hurried  me  away  to  their  little 
cart,  where  I  found  a  boy's  suit,  which  I  was 
glad  to  put  on,  as  of  course  I  never  wore  the 
precious  red  suit  in  bed. 

'Those  were  good  fire-crackers/  said 
Marah's  friend.  'They  made  the  horses 
run/ 

'Yes/  said  Marah.  'I  knew  we  could 
clear  the  gipsies  out  of  the  way  and  get  Jim 
clear.  Well,  Jim,  my  son,  I'm  not  strong 
enough  to  talk  much.  I  reckon  I  have  done 
with  night-riding  since  I  got  this  slug  in  my 
chest.  But  here  we  are  again,  bound  home, 
my  son,  with  not  much  shot  in  the  locker/ 

'  You  be  quiet,'  said  his  friend  ;  '  you'll  be 
getting  your  wound  bad.  Get  up,  Neddy/ 

We  trotted  off  to  a  little  inn  which  stood 
at  some  distance  from  the  gipsies'  camp. 


240  JIM  DAVIS 

The  next  morning,  after  a  comfortable 
night  in  bed,  I  asked  Marah  how  he  had 
escaped.  He  told  me  that  when  the  lugger 
drove  ashore,  one  or  two  smugglers  who  had 
hidden  in  the  dunes,  crept  down  to  her  and 
carried  him  ashore.  The  two  others,  the 
drunkards,  were  too  noisy  to  bring  off.  They 
were  captured,  and  condemned  to  serve  in 
the  Navy.  Marah's  wound  was  not  very 
severe ;  but  he  had  had  a  great  shock,  and 
would  not  be  able  to  exert  himself  for  many 
weeks.  An  old  smuggler  (the  one-legged 
man)  had  dressed  his  wound  for  him,  and 
had  then  disguised  him  as  I  saw  him,  with  a 
beard  and  naval  clothes.  One  of  the  many 
Captains  Sharp  had  advanced  money  for 
the  journey  home  ;  but  to  avoid  suspicion 
they  had  rigged  up  their  donkey-cart,  and 
worked  their  way  as  poor  sea-ballad 
singers. 

'  And  now/  said  Marah,  '  I  heard  tell  in 
Kent  that  you'd  written  home  by  the  mail- 
coach,  a  full  five  days  ago.  Well,  Jim,  we're 
near  the  coach-road  here.  I  reckon  you're 
friends'll  be  coming  to  see  you  by  to-day's 
coach.  If  we  go  out  into  the  road,  to  the 
"  Bold  Sawyer"  yonder,  where  they  change 
horses  and  wait,  I  reckon  you'll  be  able  to 


THE  GIPSY   CAMP  241 

save  them  some  of  their  journey.  Hey, 
Sally/  he  cried  to  the  waitress,  '  what  time 
does  the  Plymouth  mail  pass  by  ? ' 

'  At  eleven  o'clock/  said  Sally. 

'At  six  bells,  Jim/  said  Marah,  'you'll  see 
your  folk  again.  On  that  I'll  wager  my  best 
new  silver  buttons/ 

The  clock  struck  ten. 

It  was  a  fair  sunny  summer's  day,  with  a 
brisk  wind  blowing,  when  we  ranged  our- 
selves across  the  road  outside  the  '  Bold 
Sawyer/  The  coach-horn,  sounding  in  the 
distance,  was  drawing  rapidly  nearer ;  we 
could  hear  the  rhythm  of  the  sixteen  hoofs. 
Presently  the  horses  swung  round  the 
corner ;  we  saw  the  coachman  flick  his 
leaders  so  that  he  might  dash  up  to  the  inn 
in  style.  Then  as  they  galloped  up  I  saw 
two  well-known  figures  sitting  outside,  well 
muffled  up.  They  were  Hugh  and  Mrs 
Cottier.  We  had  flags  in  our  hands,  so  we 
waved  them  and  shouted.  The  one-legged 
man  roared  out  his  doings  at  the  battle 
of  Belle  Isle.  I  heard  Hugh  shouting  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  '  Look,  Mother.  It's 
Jim.  It's  Jim/  We  had  a  great  dinner  at 
the  '  Bold  Sawyer '  at  one  o'clock  that  day. 
We  had  hardly  finished  at  half-past  three, 
Q 


242  JIM  DAVIS 

when  the  mail-coach  stopped  for  us,  to  take 
us  on  our  first  stage  home. 

I  need  only  add  a  few  words.  Hugh 
became  a  *  parson  fellow/  as  Marah  had  put 
it ;  while  I,  in  time,  went  to  Jamaica  as 
a  planter.  Marah  and  the  one-legged  man 
took  the  Gara  Mill  together,  and  did  very 
well  at  it.  Mr  Cottier  is  now  a  Captain  in 
the  Portuguese  Navy.  Mrs  Cottier  keeps 
house  for  me  here  on  the  Gara.  We  are 
all  a  good  deal  older ;  but  we  keep  well. 
Marah  and  I  are  planning  a  new  adventure  ; 
for  old  Van  Horn's  treasure  is  still  among 
the  coral,  and  some  day  we  are  going  to 
try  for  it. 


THE    END 


PRINTED   BY  WELLS  GARDNER,  DARTON   &*  CO  ,  LTD.,  LONDON,  E  C. 


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